Count On Me
by divergentpanda46
Summary: Beatrice Prior's world is falling apart at the seams. Her boyfriend disappeared without a word, her mother has fallen ill, and there's only one person that understands. With him, she can leave her painful past behind. She can just be this new version of herself: Tris. But what will happen when a piece of her past returns? Modern AU
1. Ch 1: See You Later

_**Hey everyone! I haven't published anything in a while as I've been working on an idea that has turned into a pretty big project. I'm still excited about that one, but this is not that project. That will come... eventually.**_

 _ **This one popped into my head quite some time ago and I spent a couple of days just writing and writing, then I put it down and didn't look at it again for months and months. When I re-read it I decided it was worth finishing. Currently, I'm planning on this being a Fourtris story, but I don't have any sort of detailed outline for this one and there's a possibility that the characters will tell me they want something different than I have planned as I only have a conceptual idea of what will happen. The characters, so far, have liked to change almost anything I plan for them.**_

 ** _Big thanks to my friend Damn you Kylie. Without her encouragement this wouldn't be published anywhere for you all to read, and she is always a fantastic sounding board for my ideas. If you haven't read her stories you absolutely should read them, all of them, because they're amazing._**

* * *

 **Be There**  
by DivergentPanda46

 **Summary:** Beatrice Prior's world is falling apart at the seams. Her boyfriend disappeared without a word, her mother has fallen ill, and there's only one person that understands. With him, she can leave her painful past behind. She can just be this new version of herself: Tris. But what will happen when a piece of her past returns? Modern AU

 **Rating:** T, might change to M. Swearing, some adult themes and situations, underage alcohol use, etc.

 **Disclaimer:** The Divergent Series and its characters are property of the original author, Veronica Roth. Quotes from the original book series may be integrated into the story on occasion. If you recognize it from Divergent, I didn't write it. The plot of this story and any original characters are my own.

* * *

 **Chapter One  
See You Later**

 **SATURDAY, JULY 19, 2014 | 2 PM**

"Okay, what do you see in that one?" I ask with a small smile, pointing at an oddly shaped cloud in the sky. The ground beneath our blanket is hard, but with my head on Tobias's shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, I couldn't care less. I could lay here with him forever. I twist a bit to glance at his face.

"Hmm." He narrows his eyes and taps his chin as he thinks. Then he grins. "A wheel… kind of like a ferris wheel."

"Mmhmm," I hum as I twist further, rolling partway on top of him. Our first kiss was on a ferris wheel; that kiss led to us both admitting that we wanted more than a friendship with one another. I was fourteen at the time and he, sixteen; nearly two years later, and we're still together and closer than ever.

I press my lips to his and we kiss slowly, tenderly… leisurely, as though we have all the time in the world, because really, we do. I could be happy spending the rest of my life with him. We may be young, but we're in love, and we've talked about a future together. I pull away and smile at him.

"I love summer," I murmur. "The freedom of it… no school…" I sigh. "It's half over. Only one more month and Caleb will be leaving, and we'll be going back to school." I pout. "It's gonna suck being there without you."

Tobias runs his thumb over my lower lip that's sticking out. "You'll be alright," he says softly.

Tobias graduated in May, along with my brother Caleb. While Caleb will be going away to Boston for school― he's going to Harvard University, he's always been the overachiever of the family― Tobias is staying in town. He applied to a few other schools, mostly local, and was accepted to most, but ultimately his dad wanted him to stay here: live at home, attend junior college to get some of his credits out of the way. I feel like there's something more than money involved in that plan on Mr. Eaton's part, but I can't put my finger on it. But to me, it seems really strange that Mr. Eaton would pay for his son to attend a prestigious private high school, then insist that he attend junior college instead of a respected university.

Either way, I'm over the moon happy that Tobias will be staying close to me.

Tobias sighs and smiles at me. His fingers lightly brush my cheek and his touch makes me close my eyes in contentment. "You know I love you more than anything, right?" he says quietly. I open my eyes to see him looking at me with intensity, his face serious.

"Of course," I answer, turning my head to press a gentle kiss to his fingertips.

"You're the best person I've ever known, Beatrice," he whispers. I smile. Only two people have ever been able to make me feel this way. To everyone else, I am just plain, small, ordinary Beatrice, hardly worth noticing at all. Only my mom and Tobias make me feel like I really _am_ someone beautiful, someone worthwhile, someone who can do amazing things.

"I love you too, Tobias," I murmur. "More than I knew was possible."

Tobias smiles, but the corners of his eyes don't crinkle like they usually do. He takes me in slowly, as if he is memorizing every detail about me. "I wish I could freeze this moment and live in it forever."

"I could spend forever here with you," I agree, smiling. "Good thing we have forever to spend together."

In answer, Tobias cups the back of my head in his hand and kisses me. It starts out heated and desperate and slowly becomes sweet and lingering. I rest my head on his chest. We stay that way, talking about nothing important, until late afternoon.

"You're sure you can't hang out tonight?" His chest vibrates under my cheek as he speaks, his voice deep and rumbling.

I sigh into his shirt. "No, I can't. My dad flew back in sometime this afternoon. Mom is insisting on 'family time' tonight."

"Will he be here long?"

My dad is away on business as much as he is home; I prefer it when he's gone. My mom is loving and nurturing, but my father has never hidden what a disappointment I am to him. It's not like I'm a trouble maker, and I am smart enough and do okay in school… but I'm not the perfect child Caleb is, and at school, I'm just not that interested in what they teach. I'm not Valedictorian material like my brother is. And my father never lets me forget it for a moment.

"I don't know," I say, shrugging my shoulders a little. "They haven't told me anything about his plans yet. I know Mom misses him, and it seems like managing everything alone has been overwhelming for her lately, or something. She seems… tired."

"Yeah, I noticed," Tobias admits. He pauses. "Beatrice, he's wrong about you. Don't listen to him."

"I know," I smile, lying through my teeth. It's easier to just agree with Tobias on this point. But I don't know how to make my dad's words stop mattering to me, stop hurting. I can usually see his point, anyway.

I glance at my watch; it's a quarter to five. "I have to go now, Tobias," I groan.

Tobias walks me to my car, and I turn to kiss him goodbye when we reach the driver's door. He surprises me with a kiss that takes my breath away; his left hand tangles in my hair and his right runs down my back before taking purchase on my hip. We pull away, breathless, and I bury my face in his neck as he holds me close.

With a long exhale he pulls back and searches my eyes with his. "I love you, Beatrice," he whispers.

"I love you, too," I say, reaching for my door handle. "I'll see you later."

Tobias steps back so I can open my door. "Goodbye, Beatrice."

I raise my hand in a little wave before I close my door, fasten my seatbelt, and back out of the parking space. As I drive away from the park we have spent so much time at together, I look in my rear view mirror and see him staring after me.


	2. Ch 2: Gone

**Chapter 2  
Gone**

 **SUNDAY, JULY 20, 2014 | 8 AM**

The first thing I do when I wake the next morning is check the notifications on my phone; Tobias usually sends me a sweet little good morning text. But the last message I have from him was from yesterday morning, before we met at the park; he didn't text me goodnight last night, either. I frown. Maybe he's sleeping in today. I send him a quick text: [Good morning, I hope you slept well. I love you. 3]

The whole family attends church together, and I can tell it makes Mom really happy. Caleb always goes with her, and I do more often than not, too. But even when Dad is home, he rarely joins us. When we get home, Caleb and I silently prepare Sunday dinner together: roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. Mom likes to have our main meal midday on Sundays—a tradition she carried over from her own childhood—then something light and easy, like sandwiches, in the evening, usually while we watch a movie or play a board game. I always enjoy those times with my mom and brother, I look forward to it each week.

I set the table as Caleb transfers all the food to serving dishes. When we are all seated around the table, first we bless the meal. Then Dad looks down at his plate and back up, frowning. "Beatrice," he scolds, "how many times must I tell you the same thing? The knives are facing the wrong direction." I look down at my own silverware and see that the cutting edge of my butter knife faces the spoon instead of the plate, and I bite my cheek. _Stupid,_ I chastise myself. _I can't even set the table right. How hard can it be to remember something like this?_

"I'll remember next time," I eek out. My father nods as he spoons potatoes onto his plate; I give myself small servings of each dish when they are passed to me. Dad gets mad if I overserve myself and don't finish what I have put on my plate, so I am careful not to take too much. I look up and see Mom smiling at me reassuringly.

Dad turns his attention to my brother now. "How is your internship at Erudite Tech, Caleb?"

"It's been great, Dad, I'm learning so much," Caleb gushes. "And they've been giving me more responsibility this week in the labs." I pick at my food and tune out Caleb's bragging and Dad's proud questions and responses. I'm so zoned out that I startle slightly when Mom reaches out from beside me and rests her hand on top of mine on the table. I meet her eyes and she squeezes my hand lovingly.

After Caleb and I finish the dishes, I check my phone, my eyes scanning right past the text from my friend Susan, frowning when I see that Tobias still hasn't responded to my text. I am walking up the stairs toward my room, about to call him, when Mom stops me.

"Beatrice, we need to speak with you and Caleb in the living room." Something in her eyes tells me not to stall, so I turn my phone off and stick it in the back pocket of my shorts. I follow her to the living room and find that Caleb is already sitting on the couch. Dad is in his armchair and Mom sits down next to him, in her own.

They just stare at us for a long, dragging moment then look at each other. Dad raises his hand palm up, telling Mom to go ahead, so I look to her. Her forehead is creased and the corners of her mouth pull downward.

"Beatrice, Caleb… you may have noticed that I have been struggling to keep up with things that used to be routine," she says slowly. I nod and see Caleb doing the same in my peripheral vision. "I went to the doctor last week, and they sent me to the hospital for further tests."

Before the next words even leave her mouth, I want to cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut and sing loud enough to drown it out. I want to go back to that moment with Tobias today, and stay in it forever just like he wanted. But that isn't the way life works, and drowning out my mother's words wouldn't stop them from being true. So I listen with my stomach dropping through the floor and my pulse pounding in my ears in increasing volume.

Mom's voice shakes. "I have ovarian cancer."

We sit in shock for seconds, minutes, I don't know. I don't know how long I sit there just staring at the pattern of the tile surface of the coffee table, the words echoing in my head but seemingly beyond my comprehension.

"How advanced is it?" Caleb asks, his voice raspy.

"Stage four," Mom says. "It's spread to my liver. I'm going to fight it, but…" she leans forward and takes my hand in her left and Caleb's in her right. "The odds aren't good."

I can no longer make out the pattern of the tile; my vision has become too blurry. "How long?" I say quietly. "How long do they say you have?"

"Six months at best."

All at once a sob rips through me. I am on my feet in a moment, running to my mother so fast that I bump my knee on the coffee table, and fling myself into her arms. I sob into her shoulder as I hug her as tight as I can, letting her comfort me with her hand stroking my hair and comforting whispers.

"I'll take a year off, Harvard will be there next year," Caleb says firmly.

"No, you won't," Dad barks. It's the first time he's spoken in all this. "Your future is too important. You can't be sure they'll accept you next year."

"Yes, you go, dear," Mom says. "Don't stay here for me."

Caleb nods and I glare at him; I swear he looks relieved. But deep down I know that they're probably right. And he can skype or Facetime.

I sit in my mother's lap, like a child, for a long time, even after Caleb and Dad have gotten up and left the room.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, JULY 20, 2014 | 11 PM**

 _This is Tobias. I can't answer right now but you know what to do. BEEP_

"Tobias? I haven't heard from you all day and I really need to talk to you right now… I got some really bad news and just… I… I need you. Please call me. I love you." I sigh as I end the call. It's now eleven o'clock at night and I just want Tobias. I've tried calling at least a dozen times, texted several more, and nothing. Where is he?!

Mom and Dad went to bed an hour ago, Caleb is in his room doing who knows what. I pace back and forth in my room feeling like I am drowning in the panic and despair and the only thing that can calm me right now is Tobias.

I remember that his dad left the day before yesterday for a business trip and won't be back for another week. I abruptly stop my pacing. My hand darts to my desk and I grab my keys, throwing my purse over my shoulder as I hurry down the hall, down the stairs, out the front door to my car. I speed down the street to Tobias's house.

He lives only about ten blocks away, so I'm there in minutes. The house is dark, and his truck isn't here. I sit with my forehead resting on my steering wheel; I don't know what to do.

I can't go home, I just cannot be there right now. I can't stand it. I don't know where my boyfriend is, I'm not ready to talk about this with any of my other few friends. So… I'll just wait for him.

I sit in the car for about fifteen minutes before I decide to wait for him in his room; he won't mind finding me in his bed when he gets back from wherever he is. I move the rock in the backyard where the key to the backdoor hides. I put it back after I unlock the door, then tiptoe up to his room.

But once I turn on the lamp, I freeze. His room looks completely different than the last time I was here.

The pictures… are gone. The painting I made for him of the ferris wheel… gone. His mother's sculpture, the one she gave him months before she left… is gone.

My breaths get faster and I begin to feel lightheaded as I rip open drawers to find them empty.

I cannot deny what is right in front of me. I am full on hyperventilating now, black spots dotting my vision as I sink to the floor in a mess of tears and gasping breaths.

He's gone.


	3. Ch 3: Alone

**_A/N: Wow, thank you so much for your reviews on the first couple chapters! Your support means so much to me. Just a heads up- for this story I am aiming for shorter chapters and more frequent updates, hopefully twice a week._**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**  
 **Alone**

 **THURSDAY, JULY 24, 2014 | 4 PM**

I hate hospitals.

I hate everything about them. The weird sterile smell of the disinfectant, the nurse that comes in with a bright smile (as though our lives weren't crashing down around us), the waiting… always waiting for something.

Mom checked in Monday morning. When I finally got to ask the doctor questions on Tuesday, I found out just how optimistic the six-month timeframe Mom gave us really is. She may only have weeks.

Most people wouldn't fight a disease this advanced. But one thing my mother knows, that most people don't, is how to fight even when fighting seems futile. And that's why there is a little piece of me that still believes that she will beat this. There's a little piece of me that still believes that my mother is invincible, that she can do _anything_. Even seeing how weak she is just three days into treatments, that part of me remains. It's childish, but it is something I will hold onto until the end. I'm too stubborn to let it go.

We wait in my mother's room for the nurse to take her for more chemo. I don't want to leave her for a moment more than hospital policy requires me to, but she insists that I keep my part-time job delivering pizzas. She wants me to keep up something that is normal and routine in my life. I guess I can see her point. I automatically check my phone for any sort of communication from Tobias; it's become a reflex, I probably check at least ten times an hour. But the radio silence continues.

Dad left on another trip yesterday.

"Beatrice, are you sure there isn't something else wrong?" Mom asks looking concerned. "I feel like there is something you haven't shared with me."

Tobias and I always kept our relationship hidden from our families. Neither of us get along well with our fathers, it was just easier this way.

I shake my head. "It's—" _It's nothing_ , I want to say. But I don't know how much time I have left with my mother, and I don't want to taint what we do have with lies. So I purse my lips and think for a moment, and I find an honest way to answer her.

"I'm not ready to talk about it," I say carefully.

Mom nods. My mother is always compassionate and understanding. Sometimes I wonder what she sees in my father. "I'm always ready to listen… when you are ready to share."

I just force a smile and thank her. The smile is fake, but the gratitude is genuine: for not pushing me, for being there, for being _her._

"You know, Beatrice, if it's about a boy—"

"Good afternoon," the inappropriately-cheerful nurse sings as she bursts into the room, pushing an empty wheelchair. Sometimes I think this woman must be high, to be this happy all the time. Most times I see her, I want to scream, _this is the oncology ward, you moron!_ "Time to go for your treatment, Natalie."

Mom smiles in her direction before looking back to me. I take my mother's hand as the nurse begins sorting out the tangle of tubes and wires. "I have to be at work in an hour," I say. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow."

"Beatrice," Mom sighs. "You cannot spend all your time holed up in this hospital with me. Call Susan and go to a movie, spend some time painting, do _something_ else outside of this place." I haven't spoken to Susan yet, haven't even returned her text from the weekend, and I haven't made contact with Tess or Megan either. I'm still not ready to speak about anything that's happened without crying, and I don't want their pity.

"There will be plenty of time for that after you get better," I insist, and she shakes her head in frustration. "Goodnight, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, sweet girl." The nurse helps Mom into the wheelchair.

The nurse bids me goodbye and wheels my mom out while I stay behind to gather my things. My work uniform is in my backpack, in order to maximize my time here at the hospital. I'll change when I get to work.

I turn right as I exit mom's room, heading toward the family lounge and the elevators beyond it. The only person, other than nurses, that I pass in the hall outside my mother's room is a boy about my age, a couple inches shorter than Tobias, with tan skin and dark brown eyes. I remember seeing him sitting in the family lounge a couple days ago. He flashes me a smile, but it isn't like that much-too-happy nurse's smile. It is a sympathetic smile, almost one of comradery, and I see the sadness in his eyes. I let the corners of my mouth turn up just slightly, and after he passes I glance behind me to see him enter the room two over from my mother's.

Somehow, that tiny gesture leaves me feeling a little less alone.


	4. Ch 4: Silence Speaks Volumes

**Chapter 4**  
 **Silence Speaks Volumes**

 **SATURDAY, JULY 26, 2014 | 11 AM**

I collapse into a chair in the family lounge, my head in my hands. My thoughts keep me awake at night, having no one to voice them to. I feel calmer when I am near my mother; whenever I am away from her there is this near-panicked feeling that something could happen, and I wouldn't be there. But hospital policy prevents me from staying round-the-clock. I feel like I haven't slept all week.

How have only six days passed since my world shifted on its axis? It feels so much longer, and at the same time, it is going too fast—my time with my mother is going too fast.

Caleb has continued his internship, but he comes by in the evenings. Now that it's Saturday, he's here visiting with Mom, and she convinced me to take a break. But I can't stand to actually go anywhere, so here I sit.

My mind drifts to Tobias. The hurt and anger is unbearable, but I still love him… I still have that nagging worry. I hope he is safe. I hope he's alright. It's strange to think that just a week ago, I was cuddled up to his chest, thinking of how beautiful and special he made me feel.

I sure don't feel beautiful or special now.

I look up when I feel a presence beside me. The boy I saw in the hall a few days ago—the one with the tan skin and brown eyes and the sympathetic smile—is sitting in the chair next to me, watching me. I sit up straight and make eye contact, and as soon as I do, he simply says, "Hi."

I stare a moment longer than is probably acceptable, wondering what on earth gave him the impression that I wanted to chat. But finally I say, "Hi."

He raises an eyebrow—I've always been envious of people who can raise just one, it's so much cooler than raising them both—and something about his expression makes me break into a smile. A real, genuine smile.

The boy smiles back and holds out his hand. "I'm Uriah."

I debate for a millisecond. _Why the hell not, Beatrice? It might not be so bad to make a friend here. Maybe he understands what it's like._ I shake his hand. "Beatrice."

"My dad is a patient here. I've seen you here almost every day for the last week, so I'm guessing someone you care about…" he explains, trailing off. "And, well…" He shrugs. "I just figure, if we're going to keep running into each other, might as well get acquainted. Feel a little less alone here."

"Um, yeah," I say nervously, playing with the hem of my tank top. "My mom. It doesn't look good."

Uriah nods, and I don't see what I'm afraid I'll see in my friends' eyes when I tell them. He doesn't pity me, and I don't pity him, either.

"Cancer sucks," he sighs, and I can't help smiling because his statement is so obvious, and so accurate. "Let's talk about something that _doesn't_ suck. Tell me about yourself, Beatrice."

And I do.

We talk for almost two hours and I find that Uriah is a natural comedian, but thoughtful. We steer clear of heavy topics, both needing a break from the hospital and illness but both unwilling to leave our parents any longer than necessary. I do learn that Uriah's mom is a nurse and working tons of overtime to pay for what insurance won't cover.

I tell him all about Caleb, and he tells me about his brother Zeke. He's close with his brother, while I never really have been with mine. Zeke moved out west a few weeks ago to start a job he found there to help pay for school—he's Caleb's age—and Uriah really misses him.

I don't tell him about Tobias.

But the amazing thing is, in the two hours I sit there in the family lounge with Uriah Pedrad, I only look at my phone once.

The second time I finally look at my phone, I see that it's after one o'clock and my eyes widen. "Wow," I say in genuine amazement as I stand up and stretch. "You managed to make me forget how much my life sucks for two whole hours, Uriah!"

"Anytime, Beatrice," Uriah laughs. Then he looks at the door that leads to the patient rooms, and with his eyes closed, takes a deep breath in, and lets it slowly out. I try to give him a sympathetic smile much like the one he gave me the other day. "Come on, we should get back in there."

We walk silently through the doors and down the hall toward our parents' rooms. My mom's room is a few doors past his dads, and he grips my arm to stop me before he goes in. "I just realized we didn't exchange phone numbers," he says without a hint of nervousness. I bite my lip and look away, but when I look at him again all I see in his chocolate brown eyes is kindness and friendship. So I nod and we exchange phones, each adding ourselves to the other's contacts.

"I'll be seeing you, Beatrice," he says. He pushes the door to his dad's room open, and disappears inside.

When I enter my mom's room, I find that she is sleeping and Caleb is sitting on the hard, uncomfortable window seat reading a book. His back is against the wall and his knees are bent so that his feet are flat on the seat. "Hey," I say quietly, sitting on the other side.

Caleb finally looks up. "You look better," Caleb says. "Did you take a nap?" I shake my head no, but don't tell him about my new friend. "Seriously, Bea, why don't you just go home? You've been here with her all week. I'll stay until dinnertime, I promise."

I shake my head no. "I at least want to be here when she wakes up. I'll go home earlier tonight, though. I promise."

"Okay." He sighs. "I really need you to take care of yourself, Bea. In a few weeks I won't be here, and Mom's worried about you as it is—worried whether you're sleeping, eating enough, talking to anyone… she doesn't need extra worries, Beatrice."

"And I don't need you to scold me, Caleb." He sighs dramatically and looks out the window. I glance at my phone again. No new texts, no missed calls. Nothing.

Never have I better understood the saying, "silence speaks volumes."

* * *

 ** _A/N: I realized after I posted chapter 3 that I should have combined it with this one, but oh well, I wasn't going to change it once it was up and people were reading already. So I guess this is sort of like the rest of the chapter. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Yes, I am planning on this being a Fourtris story by the end, but you'll have to be a bit patient! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited- it definitely helps calm the crazy nerves I get whenever I put something new out there for the world to see. :)_**


	5. Ch 5: Laugh or Cry

**Chapter 5  
Laugh or Cry**

 **MONDAY, JULY 28, 2014 | 2:30 PM**

The moment Mom falls asleep, I make a beeline for the family lounge. I can't hold back the tears a moment longer. The doctor's words echo in my head. _Growth accelerating… extremely aggressive case… metastasized…_ I didn't even have a reason to know the word 'metastasized' before last week. But now I know what it means. It means it's spread. It means it's getting worse.

I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hands, trying to clear the tears away as I pull out my phone and unlock the screen. For a moment I just stare at it, then I give in and tap the messaging icon and pull up Tobias's name.

 _Beatrice_

 _[Tobias, are you there? Please… I really need you.]_

I send the message and stare at my phone, as if looking hard enough at it will somehow force him to respond. And I do get a response…

[Message could not be delivered]

I growl in frustration and try calling him just to be sure. " _We're sorry. The number you've dialed could not be connected or is no longer in service. Please check—"_

I jam my finger into the end icon. I can feel the sobs building inside me, ready to burst like an overfilled balloon as I open my email app in a last-ditch effort to reach Tobias.

Then I stare at the screen, frozen in place.

There is an email from Tobias.

I take a deep breath and open it.

 _Beatrice,_

 _I'm so sorry I left without really saying goodbye. I can't stay in Chicago any more. It has nothing to do with you and it kills me to leave you, but I need a fresh start, I need to be someone new and leave my old life behind._

 _You are the best person I've ever known, don't forget that. I will always love you._

 _Tobias_

I drop my phone on the floor as the dam finally breaks. Sobs rack my body, it is all too much, I don't know how I can bear it. The only people that I've ever felt have really understood me and loved me as I am… are leaving me.

I would never have been able to just leave Tobias like that, I love him too much. I was stupid to ever believe that he could really love me. I was never good enough for him—I always knew it, I always knew he deserved someone better, but he convinced me otherwise.

I choke and heave as I release the pain that has been snowballing all week, but the well never seems to run dry.

Then suddenly strong, warm arms wrap around me and a deep voice says my name soothingly. Slowly I begin to calm down. I gasp and hiccup and look up, through blurry eyes with swollen eyelids, at the person comforting me. Uriah.

He rocks me back and forth, as though he's soothing a child after a nightmare. I am too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to care that he's seeing me like this; too exhausted to care that a boy I met two days ago is holding me in his lap.

After all, that's inevitable with this sort of friendship, isn't it? Our bond is borne from the fact that our parents are dying. We were already bound to see each other through the worst.

* * *

 **MONDAY, JULY 28, 2014 | 7:15 PM**

"So what's the prognosis now?" Caleb asks, his voice shaking.

Mom releases a long breath. "Two months at best."

Caleb lets out a strangled, inhuman noise. I glare at my feet. All I can think, as much as I don't like having him around, is that Dad should be here. His wife is dying, she might be gone in just weeks—we have so little time left with her. And where is he? In New York, on a business trip. I guess we know for sure, now, where his priorities lie.

I drag myself to my feet when I hear a quiet knock at the door to Mom's room. I've been here all day, this should be Caleb's time with her. He just got here about forty minutes ago.

I open the door to reveal Uriah. He looks concerned at first, then relaxes when he sees no evidence of recent tears. "Hey," he says in a softer-than-usual voice—which still isn't all that soft, Uriah isn't a quiet person. "I'm heading out to grab dinner, thought I'd see if you might be willing to keep me company."

Caleb stands, narrowing his eyes at Uriah. "Uh, why don't you come in. Caleb's going into protective older brother mode."

I introduce Uriah to Caleb and my mom, who insists that he call her Natalie. "Uriah and I met in the family lounge after seeing each other around a few times," I explain. "His dad is a couple rooms over."

"My other friends don't really get it," Uriah explains. "So I was glad to run into Beatrice. I'd really like to get to know you guys a little better, but it may have to wait for another day, because I'm starving." He looks at me expectantly and I remember that he's waiting for my answer.

"Sure, I could eat," I reply. "I should let Mom and Caleb have some time together, anyway." Uriah smiles and I gather up my things. As I'm about to leave, Caleb grabs my arm and pulls me closer.

"Beatrice, I really don't think this is a good time to start a relationship," he whispers.

I sigh. "Caleb, he's just a friend. He's going through what we are, and you're leaving soon. I'll need him." Caleb frowns. I can tell he doesn't believe me.

"Fine," he grumbles.

I give my mom a kiss and a long hug, tell her that I love her, and finally leave her room and start down the hall with Uriah. We walk silently and I think about what Caleb said. I'm certainly not looking for a relationship, especially after what just happened with Tobias, but I wonder if Uriah has different expectations than I have.

We didn't really talk, after I calmed down from my meltdown. I haven't known Uriah long, but I trust him. Telling someone about Tobias might help, and after what Caleb said, I think he needs to know.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, JULY 28, 2014 | 9:45 PM**

"Pass that shit over." Uriah, it turns out, only lives about ten minutes from me—he even goes to the same high school I would be assigned to if I were enrolled in public school. Currently, we are in the treehouse that his dad helped Uriah and his brother, Zeke, build when they were in elementary school.

Besides holding great memories… the treehouse also holds Uriah's supply of alcohol, and he keeps it well-stocked.

Uriah passes me the bottle of whiskey and I brace myself before bringing it to my lips. I drank a few times when Tobias and I went to parties—he was popular and a senior, so he knew where the best ones were, but neither of us really loved big teenage parties. He hated crowds (especially in confined spaces), and I always felt out of place. I never had to drink it straight there, though.

I wince at the taste, and the whiskey burns as it trickles down my throat, then there's an odd warmth in my stomach. I honestly don't care how bad it tastes or how weird it feels, though, if I can just stop feeling so much for a little while.

"How often do you do this?" I ask, passing the bottle back to him.

Uriah smirks. "What, bring a pretty girl to my treehouse and get her wasted?" he laughs.

I roll my eyes, choosing not to argue with his compliment—I know he's just being polite, anyway. "No… get drunk."

"More often than I'd like to admit," he says, wincing. He sighs. "Zeke and I used to come up here and drown our sorrows maybe twice a week, ever since Dad got sick. Since Zeke left… I guess I don't really subscribe to that whole 'don't drink alone' advice I always hear."

I pull the bottle out of his hand and take another swig. Still gross. "I'm not judging. I'd do just about anything to forget for a little while, _especially_ if I was alone." I drink one more time before handing it back to him. "And I am very…much…alone."

Uriah raises his eyebrows and I pull out my phone and pull up the email. "My boyfriend…of nearly two years," I explain. "I spent all last Saturday afternoon with him, and then when I needed him the next evening after Mom…told me…" I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and Uriah takes my hand and begins to rub soothing circles with his thumb while he waits silently for me to continue. "He wouldn't answer the phone. So I went over to his house, I got the hidden spare key and let myself in and I found that his room was cleaned out. He was gone. Didn't hear from him at all until I got that email today, his number's even disconnected."

Uriah stares at me for a good minute with his lips pressed together in a thin line. Then he hands me the bottle of whiskey and says, "Definitely need to drink after a week like that. And chocolate cake. Where's the cake when you need it?"

I laugh. Sometimes all you can do is laugh or cry, and with Uriah, it's easy to choose laughter.


	6. Ch 6: Tris and Rocco

**Chapter 6  
Tris and Rocco**

 **FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 2014 | 4:30 PM**

 _Uriah  
_ _[Come on, you need to go have fun and do normal teenage shit. We've both done nothing but sit in the hospital for weeks.]  
_ _[It'll be like being someone else for a while. Uriah and Beatrice's lives can go on hold for a while.]  
_ _[We can even make up fake names.]_

The idea of becoming someone else and just pretending everything is okay for a night…it's appealing.

 _Beatrice  
_ _[Okay. I'll come. But only if we do the fake names.]_

 _Uriah  
_ _[YES I'm in.]_

I think for a minute. What would I like to call my alter-ego? Definitely not Bea.

 _Uriah  
_ _[I'm going to be Rocco.]_

 _Beatrice  
_ _[Seriously? Rocco?]  
_ _[I'm going to be Tris.]_

 _Uriah  
_ _[Tris. I like it. Sounds pretty badass, actually.]  
_ _[Don't care what you say, I'm totally going by Rocco tonight.]  
_ _[Pick you up at 7, we'll Uber.]_

My dad is home for now—I mean, still at work most of the time, and at the hospital some of the time too, but he's here in Chicago, living in the house. But nearly all the time he's at work or the hospital (mostly work), and so long as I steer clear of him, he doesn't seek me out. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. He isn't likely to be home by 7—he'll just be getting to the hospital, probably, for the last visiting hour of the day—I shouldn't run into him.

"Beatrice." I look up to see that Mom is awake. With her all the medications and pain killers she's on, she sleeps a lot. I quickly turn off my phone and set it on the bedside table.

"Hey, Mom," I say, standing up.

"Was that Uriah you were texting with?" Mom asks with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes," I laugh. "He talked me into making up alter-egos and hitting the town tonight."

Mom laughs. "He reminds me of some of my friends as a teenager. She smirks. "He's cute, Beatrice."

"We're only friends, Mom," I tell her honestly. Uriah has become my very best friend. I still can't think like that about anyone but Tobias. And I can't think like that about Tobias. I can't afford to think of Tobias at all. But I still do. And it still hurts.

I look at my mother and think of all the things she'll never get to teach me, all the situations where I will want her advice and she won't be here. "So, if I did want to date Uriah… you would approve?" I don't know if I will ever want to date Uriah; my heart isn't ready to move on yet. But I do want to know what my mom would say about it.

Mom gingerly shifts her quickly deteriorating body to one side of the bed and pats the open space. I climb on, careful not to pull on the wires and tubes, and lay beside her, my head on her shoulder. "I do like Uriah, but only you can know if he is right for you. Beatrice, if you one day fall in love, I wish for you to fall in love with someone who wants to know your favorite color and remembers that you like your hot chocolate not-too-hot. Fall in love with someone who calls you beautiful instead of hot, and who thinks you are just as pretty without any make-up. Fall in love with someone who loves you for who you are, flaws and all, and not who he thinks you could be. Fall in love with someone who holds your hand in front of his friends and kisses you in public. Fall in love with someone who stays by your side whether you are at your best, or at your worst, who sticks around even when you feel like giving up. Someone who makes you stronger and confident in yourself. All I want for you, my sweet girl, is for you to be the best version of Beatrice that you can be, and if you fall in love, I wish for it to be someone who brings that out in you."

I snuggle into her shoulder, tears streaming down my face.

"And, my sweet girl, I wish most of all for you to never forget that you deserve nothing less," she finishes with a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you, Momma," I choke out.

"I love you, my sweet girl, always. I thank God every day for giving you to me."

I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of my mother stroking my hair, like she used to do when I was sick or frightened as a little child, until I eventually fall asleep beside her in the hospital bed.

* * *

 **FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 2014 | 11:30 PM**

The guy I'm playing beer pong with—I think his name is Nate, but my head's a little fuzzy so I'm not totally sure—wraps his right arm around my waist as Uriah and his teammate take their turn. He's on the opposing team, along with some girl named Stella or something like that. Uriah's ball lands in one of our cups, but Stella's bounces off the table. "Go Rocco!" I cheer as he chugs the drink.

I'm pretty decent at this game, and so is Nate, we only have two cups left. Uriah's pretty good, too, but Stella really sucks, so they still have five cups out. "You're up, _Tris_ ," Uriah smirks, and I giggle. I've liked being Tris tonight. Tris is fun and carefree.

I stumble forward and have to grip the edge of the table to steady myself; I have no idea how many drinks I've had tonight. Nate counts down and we both throw our ping pong balls, I concentrate and aim for the cup on the right and he for the one on the left. The ball bounces once and lands in the cup just as Nate hits his target, too.

"We won!" I cheer, bouncing with excitement, and Nate wraps his arm around me again and the next thing I know, his lips are on mine.

I've never kissed anyone other than Tobias before. For a second I'm too stunned to react, then my brain catches up and I kiss him back. His lips aren't as soft as Tobias's and he tastes like beer. But I suppose I do, too. He pulls away and grabs the cups for us to drink the final beers. Uriah raises an eyebrow at me and my face heats up, so I hide behind my cup and drink the beer.

Nate's breath is hot on my ear. "Come on, Tris. Let's go somewhere quieter."

I debate for a moment whether to go with him. Beatrice would never, but I'm Tris tonight, and Tris is bold, and she doesn't have all of Beatrice's worries. So I smile and slip my hand into Nate's, and I let him lead me through the crowded house and up the stairs. I'm a little relieved when we find that all the rooms are occupied, but I try to lose myself in the moment when he pushes me into the wall of the hallway and kisses me hard.

I feel like I am half here and half somewhere else as we make out; a part of me wants to just lose myself, to not think at all, as his hand gropes my breast. There's also a guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach, the part of me that is still loyal to Tobias even though he's gone, even though we're over. But he left and made it clear that he is not coming back, so I push that part of me as far into the back of my mind as I can as Nate's hand travels up my thigh.

I don't know how long we stay in that hallway. We're interrupted by a throat clearing and when we pull away, Uriah is standing there with a blank look on his face. "We should get going, Tris," he says. "Uber will be here any minute." I nod and straighten out my skirt and call goodbye to Nate, who stares after me looking sort of bewildered, as Uriah grabs my hand and leads me away.


	7. Ch 7: Stunts and Freedom

_**A/N: I've decided on a name change for this story. I was never totally satisfied with its original name but I'm impatient and posted it anyway. This new name,**_ **Count On Me** _ **, has been stuck in my head for about a week so I'm gonna go with it.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 7  
Stunts and Freedom**

 **THURSDAY, AUGUST 7, 2014 | 9:30 PM**

Uriah clenches and unclenches his jaw, almost to a rhythm as he revs the engine of the 1971 Camaro he fixed up with his dad. He glances at the driver of the tricked out late-model Acura NXS in the next lane, then stares intently at the light again. The instant it turns green, Uri expertly floors the gas pedal while releasing the clutch in perfect time, then he's shifting into second, then third, and before I know it we've passed the mile marker sign that signals the finish line, the Acura trailing almost a car length behind. The wind from the open window blows my long hair around, tangling it, as Uriah and I both grin and laugh.

"Shit!" Uriah hisses and I glance in the mirror to see blue lights flashing a couple blocks back. Uriah quickly maneuvers the car right at the next intersection, weaves through a back lot behind a grocery store, and through the neighborhood taking several rights and lefts at random until he pulls into an alleyway.

We hold our breath, but no sirens or lights come. We look at one another, breathless, and both break out into big grins.

"Worth it," he laughs.

"Definitely worth it," I agree. Uriah turns on the radio and relaxes back into his seat so we can wait this out and make sure the cops have given up on looking for his car. As soon as the smile falls from his face, I see the dark circles under his eyes, and the way the corners of his mouth turn down. It's not natural on his face. I sigh. "So what did the doctor say today?" I know he's been avoiding this conversation, and I'll have to pull it out of him. Uriah has a habit of hiding behind humor and reckless antics, but it's only a cover-up.

Uriah sighs and shifts in his seat so that he's at least partway facing me. "It's spread to his bones and his lungs." I reach out and take his hand. "We don't have much more time left with him, Beatrice. A few weeks, maybe. And I'm not ready to say goodbye. He's—I mean, he's my dad! I'm only sixteen, his job isn't done yet!"

I'm dreading the next update from my mom's doctors; she certainly doesn't seem to be getting any better. I know she's losing this fight, just like Uriah's dad is.

"Did you tell Zeke?"

Uriah nods. "Yeah. Mom couldn't do it. It kills me to see her so…" he trails off and just sighs.

We sit in silence for a long time. That's what we need most on days like this—someone to just _be_ _there_. To not try to make it better, because you can't, nothing can make this better; to not pretend that everything's going to be okay, because we know it won't, how can it?

"There's a little piece of me," I say, breaking the long silence, "that still believes that my mom will get through this. She's a fighter. There's still that part of me deep down inside that believes she can beat anything, that she's invincible, because… she's my mom." Uriah nods. "Do you still have that piece of you that holds out hope?"

Uriah nods again. "Yeah… yeah, I do. I think it would be better if I didn't. But it doesn't seem to go away. Part of me still holds out for a miracle."

"Me too," I whisper.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 2014 | 9:45 AM**

I rush into the IHOP and scan the dining room for Uriah; he's already seated and it looks like he even got me something to drink. I drop into the chair across from him. "Sorry I'm so late." We were supposed to meet at 9:30.

"I'll find some way for you to make it up to me." That grin on his face makes me nervous. "Oh, I ordered for you, by the way." I raise my eyebrows but he just keeps smiling.

"I'm afraid to see what they bring me," I deadpan. "So anyway… any idea what you want to do today?"

Our moms talked us into taking a day off from visiting the hospital. They think we spend too much time there. I have a feeling they may be making big decisions with their doctors and spouses.

"Hmm… Navy Pier?" Uriah suggests. I quickly shake my head and my eyes burn; that place holds special significance for Tobias and me. I don't think I can handle a visit there, not yet. "Okay… well, there are normal things we could do—like go to the skate park, or paintball, or go to the beach…"

"All good options," I say.

"Or we could do something weird like… dress up as pirates and go to the mall…"

"No thank you."

"Or go to the animal shelter and pet all the puppies…"

"Seriously, Uri, how do you come up with this stuff?" I ask shaking my head.

"Shush, I'm still thinking!" he protests. His eyes light up just as the waitress stops at our table and sets one plate in front of me, and an identical one in front of Uriah.

I look from my plate to Uriah. He's trying to hold in his laughter and failing, but it's coming out as this weird quiet giggle. I fight to keep my face blank as I say, "The funny face pancake? Really? What are you, twelve?"

"And a half!" Uriah blurts out as he finally begins to openly laugh. I can't hold it in any longer and start laughing along with him. It's not even _that_ funny, but his face… he looked like he just pulled off the world's best prank, so self-satisfied.

We finally quiet down and begin eating our pancakes. "I've got it," Uriah says. "Cliff diving. I know a spot. We can hike the waterfall and jump."

"Are you sure the water's deep enough?" I ask nervously.

"Positive. I've done it before, promise. Come on, _Tris_ , don't be a pansycake!" I roll my eyes at his juvenile insult but… I can't have him labeling me as a pansycake, now, can I?

"Okay," I agree, "let's do it."

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 2014 | 2:30 PM**

I can barely hear over the roar of the waterfall as I stare at the river thirty feet below. Uriah and I picked up a few of his friends from school. Jack peers over my shoulder and Kenny hasn't even approached the edge, while Madison stands next to me.

"So, who's jumping first?" Uriah asks with an evil smirk. "Anyone brave enough?"

"I will." I quote Uriah: "I ain't no pansycake!" He whoops and gives me a high five. We all back away from the edge, to give me space. I start a few yards back, take a deep breath, then I run a few steps, bending my knees and jumping when I reach the edge.

All I can hear is the rushing water and I feel weightless. Time stands still as I fall and the spray of the water needles my skin. I reach my arms out to my sides and close my eyes, and as the air rushes over my skin, it feels like freedom—freedom from all the worries and problems that weigh me down.

And then all at once I crash through the water's surface, tumbling under the water, frantically kicking and moving my arms until I right myself and pop up to the surface with a gasp. The water is cold and it presses against my chest making it hard to breathe.

From up on the cliff, I hear Uriah and his friends cheering and Uriah screams out, "First jumper—Tris!" I laugh. I guess 'Tris' really is my bolder, braver alter-ego.

I quickly swim away from the waterfall and the deep pool beneath it until I reach the shallow at the river's edge and watch as Uriah hurls himself off the cliff with a high-pitched scream.

I wish my life could always be filled with fun and laughter, stunts and freedom, and I wonder if that life will ever be within my reach.


	8. Ch 8: Poker Face

_**A/N: Thanks for all the love so far! After the first few reviews I got on this chapter I thought I should add this note: You might want to have some tissues handy while reading this chapter, just in case...**_

* * *

 **Chapter 8  
Poker Face**

 **FRIDAY, AUGUST 15, 2014 | 10:15 PM**

Susan, Tess and Megan finally badgered me into going out with them this afternoon for the first time in the past month. They already know about my mother, because Caleb told Susan when she stopped by one day. But they didn't know about Tobias. I've never been so thankful for my job: my 5-10 pm shift delivering pizzas tonight was what allowed me to end the little get-together.

I drag myself up the ladder into Uriah's treehouse balancing a pizza in one hand; free pizza is one of the few perks of my job. Uriah absolutely lights up when I slide it across the floor. "Pepperoni and pineapple, my favorite! You're the best," Uriah cheers as I snatch the bottle of liquor from beside him and get settled in a bean bag chair next to him.

"And thank you," I return, "for this!" I don't even care what it is, I just unscrew the cap and take a big gulp.

Uriah laughs at the sour look on my face. "Super cheap vodka. Pretty disgusting, huh?" He takes a big bite of pizza and grabs a red solo cup like the ones at that party a couple weeks ago and sets it in front of me along with bottle of fruit punch. "Mix it with that."

I shrug. "After my day with the girls, it's worth the bad taste, believe me."

"That bad, huh?" he mumbles through a mouthful of pizza while I fill my cup with vodka and fruit punch—heavy on the vodka.

"Uri! Eww! Swallow, then speak!" He at least has the decency to look sorry. "Yeah… it really was… that bad. First of all, there were all the pity looks, about my mom, of course." Uriah nods and rolls his eyes; he's plenty familiar with that particular annoyance. "Well on top of that, they asked about her with this voice… like…"

"—like they're talking to a five year old whose puppy just died?"

"Exactly!" I exclaim.

Uriah winces. "Yeah, I'm familiar." He continues eating his pizza.

"But somehow I didn't even think to worry about the whole Tobias situation," I spit.

Uriah's face falls, understanding my meaning. "They asked about him."

"Yep," I say, popping the p.

"So what did you tell them?"

I lean back and close my eyes. "I told them that we broke up, but when I didn't know where he ended up they were certain there was more to the story. So then, they spent all this time searching all the social media sites for him, which of course came up with nothing. I thought we'd be done with it at that point," I sigh. "Nope. Time for another round of twenty questions!"

"That… sucks," Uriah says emphatically. "You know they mean well. Bet you can't wait to go back to school with all of them in another week or so," he teases, laughing. I groan in response. "Hey, maybe you can talk your parents into letting you go to public school for the rest of high school. Come slum it with me."

"Yeah, right," I say, but the idea takes root in my mind. What can it hurt to try? "Anyway, enough about me. How was your day?"

"Fine I guess," he sighs. "I heard Mom on the phone with Zeke a few hours ago. Telling him that he needs to talk to his boss about being prepared to fly home for the funeral. Won't be long now. A couple weeks if we're really lucky."

I reach for his hand; it has become instinct now. Not for the first time, I notice the warm feeling I get when we touch… like safety and belonging.

"Tris?" Uriah says, turning on his side in his bean bag to face me. I do the same, lying kind of sideways on my own chair, and hum in response. He stares right into my eyes as he says, "I'm glad I met you. I don't know how, but everything is… is a little less fucked, when you're with me, even though nothing's changed."

I smile. "Ditto. I don't know how I'd survive this without you."

Uriah smiles and glances down at where our fingers are still laced together. He beckons me with his other hand, I roll my eyes but get up and manage to fit myself onto the beanbag next to him, his arm behind me. Uriah wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in closer, my head resting on his shoulder. "That's better. You were too far away."

I melt into his embrace, feeling so relaxed and comforted, and at the same time, a mild nervous, tingly feeling in my stomach. Not the bad kind of nerves, like dread, but the kind you get when something good is about to happen.

I lie there in my best friend's comforting arms, and before long, we drift off to sleep, wedged next to each other on a bean bag in a treehouse lit by twinkle lights.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 17, 2014 | 9:05 AM**

I'm so angry I could scream. I glare at the suitcases Caleb has set neatly by the front door, my arms crossed over my chest, then turn that glare back to my brother.

"I don't understand how you can just leave right now, Caleb!" I seethe. "You heard the doctors yesterday. Her days are numbered, in the single digits. Her body is already shutting down. You should be here for her!"

"And if they're wrong?" Caleb counters. "If she lasts another few weeks, where does that leave me? School starts in a week, Beatrice."

"So stay the week!" I scream. "You'll have to fly right back as it is, for Mom's…" I blink back tears and swallow the lump in my throat; I can't even say it. I can't bear to say the word 'funeral' in relation to my mother.

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose. "Beatrice, my flight leaves in two hours. Can you just give me a ride to the damn airport?!"

I scoff. "Fuck you, Caleb. You want to leave and let your own mother go through this without you here to support her, then go, but I won't be a part of it. Call a damn Uber. I'm going to the hospital to see Mom."

"Fine," he snaps… and then he pulls out his phone to order the fucking Uber ride.

Angry tears roll down my cheeks all the way to the hospital, but I manage to more or less pull myself together by the time I arrive to Mom's floor. I still feel like I could break down if I see her just now, so I stop in and see Uriah's dad, Jacob, first.

I knock lightly at the door before slowly pushing it open. Uriah gives me a sad smile and pats the empty spot next to him on the window bench; I see that Jacob is asleep. Uriah's mom, Hana, must be working today.

"So he really left, huh?" Uriah asks.

"Yep," I reply. "That obvious?"

"I can read you like a book, Beatrice." He gives me that sad smile again, the same as the first time we made eye contact when we passed in the hall a month ago. Has it only been a month? How is that possible? "I'm guessing you came here first to buy some time and put on your poker face."

"You know me so well." He just smiles. "Do you ever feel that way about Zeke? I know his situation is a little different…"

Uriah sighs. "Yeah, I mean, a little. But it is different with Zeke, and I know it's unfair of me to feel that way. My brother would give anything to be here with Dad. But he was really lucky to secure the job and apartment he did. With all Dad's medical bills…"

"Right," I sigh. Uriah's mom, Hana, picks up a lot of overtime to make ends meet and limit the debt she's left with, but even so…when Jacob dies he will leave a mountain of medical bills behind. Zeke is only doing what he must.

I keep Uriah company for a few more minutes. Once I am completely calmed down from my fight with Caleb—Mom would sense it if I wasn't—I make the short trek down the hall to Mom's room.

Lately, my need to be as close to my mother as possible has created the habit of laying together in her hospital bed, so as soon as I arrive, I help her scoot to one side of the bed and squeeze in next to her. She is weak and frail, and the cancer has spread to her brain and taken her vision, but she is still herself.

"I spoke to your father about your request last night," she tells me. "He agreed to let you attend the public school. He will stop by to enroll you there on Monday."

"Really?!" I squeal, I didn't think it was possible. "I guess you got him on the money argument?"

"Yes, and you and I both know you aren't striving for Harvard like your brother, though you're certainly bright enough."

"No I'm not," I argue.

"Yes, Beatrice, you are. But that's not your dream."

I sigh. "I'm not sure what my dream is."

"You're young," Mom says. "You have plenty of time to explore the world and find out. I just wish I could be here to find out what you discover and hear all about your adventures."

I ache at her words. It hurts already that I won't be able to tell her of all the adventures that I haven't yet dreamed of. And I ache for all the things I never shared with her.

"Would you like to hear of all the adventures I've had so far?" I ask.

Mom squeezes my hand. "There is nothing I would like more, Beatrice."

I talk for hours. I tell her of my first love, leaving out details like losing my virginity, and just how bad the timing of his sudden abandonment was, but it's healing to share what I do. I recount Caleb and my secret childhood missions to snoop our Christmas gifts or catch Santa coming down the chimney. I tell her all about my alter-ego, Tris, and all the fun Uriah and I have. I even tell her about the that impromptu street race we got into last week. I talk right through lunchtime, not wanting to lose a moment with her.

Somehow she stays awake for all of that. When Uriah comes by to see her late in the afternoon, I can tell she can barely stay awake another moment.

"Uriah, come here, dear," Mom requests.

When he's close enough she pulls him in for a hug. I don't hear what she says to him, but I hear him murmur, "I promise." She kisses him on the cheek before she releases him.

"Beatrice," Mom says, "go get some dinner with Uriah. I'm ready to sleep now." I'm hesitant to leave, but she's right—I've worn her out with my stories, and she needs to rest.

I hug her tight and she kisses my cheek. "I love you, Momma," I say in her ear.

"I love you, my sweet girl," Mom says. I kiss her forehead and leave with Uriah, not knowing that those would be the last words my mother would ever say to me.


	9. Ch 9: Like a Bullet Train

_**A/N: This is a short one. The next one will be longer.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 9  
Like a Bullet Train**

 **WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 20, 2014 | 5:20 PM**

Everything happened so fast. Like a bullet train, in exactly a month, I lost everything. Tobias disappeared, my mom got sick… and now they have just rolled away the lifeless shell of the woman I love with every fiber of my being.

After our long talk on Sunday, Mom went to sleep… and she never woke up. In accordance with her wishes, the doctors did not prolong her life. Thirteen minutes ago, she took her last breath.

Dad was here, but moments after the line on the monitor went flat, he left without a word

Two rooms down the hall, Jacob Pedrad is losing the battle almost as quickly. Uriah is the only person I have left but I can't ask him to be here for me right now. No one knows how many days Jacob has left, how many more times Uriah will be able to speak with his father, but we know it isn't many.

I sit on the window seat, curled in a ball. I kept mostly composed until I finished my short conversation informing Caleb, and then I let go. My shoulders shake with my sobs and I bury my face in my hands. I faintly hear the door open and close, probably another nurse. But then I smell the familiar scent of coconut and a hint of chocolate, and Uriah's familiar arms wrap around me.

I turn in his arms and bury my face in his chest. I know my tears are soaking the front of his shirt but I stay there and cry into his shoulder anyway, and Uriah doesn't protest; he just runs his fingers gently through my hair and makes soft shushing noises.

After a while I mumble into his chest, "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean, why am I here?" he says incredulously. "Beatrice… you're sitting here all alone not even an hour after your mother died. You're my friend. There's no way in hell I'd leave you alone right now."

"But your dad," I protest. "Uri, you won't get this time back. You need to be with him."

"Tris. Stop." He sighs. "I know that. But I need to be with you, too. Will you come back there with me?" He interrupts me before I can protest. "He wants you there with us, too, Tris. A nurse informed us about your mom, that you were in here alone, and Dad is worried about you. Mom, too."

I open my mouth but I can't argue with that. Uriah's parents care more than my own family. I don't want them to worry about me― they have enough worries already. Besides, maybe it's reassuring to Jacob, seeing Uriah be there for me, knowing I'll have to return the favor much too soon.

As we walk the short distance down the hallway to Jacob Pedrad's room, Uriah reassures me, "No faking it, okay? They're going through this shit too, they understand and expect it. You won't make anyone uncomfortable if you cry."

I let out a shaky breath and nod, then Uriah opens the door and ushers me in. Immediately Hana is in front of me, wrapping me in her arms.

"I'm so sorry, honey," Hana says softly in my ear, and I can hear the pain in her voice. Perhaps she and my mother had become closer than I realized, or maybe she is thinking about how this will be Uriah and Zeke in my place in the very near future. Whatever the reason, her words break the dam with a strangled cry from my throat, and salty tears begin to stream down my face. I sob into her shoulder and her hand moves slowly up and down my back. Then another set of arms envelopes us both and Uriah's nose is in my hair. Warm water falls from his eyes and wets the top of my head.

I don't know how long passes before Hana carefully transfers me completely to Uriah's arms. He scoops me up with one hand under my knees and I hold tight around his shoulders, my face pressed to his chest. I am no longer sobbing, but the tears continue to fall endlessly, until I fall asleep curled in his lap in the window seat.


	10. Ch 10: Everything is Different

**CHAPTER 10  
Everything Is Different**

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 10:05 AM**

Caleb slams the trunk shut, and a moment later he opens the passenger door of my Honda Civic and sits down beside me. I don't wait for him to buckle his seatbelt before pulling into traffic and driving away from the United Airlines baggage claim. We don't even say hello to each other; he has been gone for a week, but the air between us is still charged with tension.

I shift in my seat and smooth my black dress. "Good thing your plane wasn't any later, or you'd have missed the funeral, too," I say. I glance over my shoulder to check my blind spot and as I merge onto the freeway, I mutter, "As if missing her _death_ wasn't bad enough."

"Beatrice," Caleb groans.

"What?!" I snap. "That was beyond shitty, and you know it. She was our _mother_ , Caleb. You knew she was dying, you could have waited the week to leave for school, and yet, you didn't."

He huffs. "You just don't understand."

"You're right. I don't."

Caleb pouts and stares out the window for the rest of the drive to the funeral home. For the entire forty-five minutes, neither of us says a word. Only the sporadic blare of a car horn and my occasional whispered cursing at the traffic interrupts the charged silence.

I have spent the past three days since my mother's death sitting despondently on my bed, unable to sleep until the wee hours of the morning and finding it practically impossible to wake up until late in the afternoon. I only interrupt my mourning for Uriah's sake: each day I have visited Jacob in the hospital for an hour in the evening, then spent some time with Uriah once visiting hours end. Walking into that hospital after watching my mother die there is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I cannot abandon my best friend and the people who have cared for me and welcomed me as if I were their own family, despite having met such a short time ago. Through all this, I have learned how meaningless time can really be, and at the same time, how valuable.

Bitterly, I wonder how Caleb has spent the past three days. Has he retreated into himself to mourn our dear mother as I have? Or has he gone about his business, exploring his new surroundings and meeting new people? I don't know, and I will not ask. The answer might only serve as another stab in my already battered heart. He has known of her death for three days, yet he booked a flight that barely made it here in time for her funeral, narrowly missing his final chance to say goodbye.

I'm not sure if I will ever forgive him for it.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 1:20 PM**

The funeral was a somber affair. I sat in the front row to my father's left, Caleb on his right. I may not get along too well with my dad, but I would rather sit next to him than Caleb right now. To my relief, no one complained when Uriah sat to my other side. Silent tears escaped my eyes and trailed down my cheeks, but Uriah kept his hand firmly wrapped around mine, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the webbing between my thumb and index finger, keeping me grounded, preventing me from coming apart into so many pieces I might never pick them all up and fit them together again.

Hana approaches me at the reception that follows. "I didn't know you were here," I say into her ear as she she embraces me. "You should be with Jacob right now."

Hana shakes her head. "No, I should be here for _you_ right now. And your mother."

"But you have so little time with him," I argue, "I don't want you to regret—"

She pulls back and looks at me. "I won't regret being here for you, Beatrice, I can promise you that. I've taken leave from work, so I have far more time with him than I had before. Natalie was a wonderful woman, and she had become my friend."

I nod, tears welling in my eyes. "You should get back to Jacob, Hana."

"I know," she nods. "I'll see you soon."

When she steps away, Uriah takes her place and pulls me into a hug. "I want to stay here with you, but—"

"Go," I tell him. "Thank you for being here while you could."

"I'll see you tonight," Uriah tells me. He kisses my cheek and quickly hurries after his mother, and I find myself watching him leave, my hand covering the place where I can still feel the ghost of his lips.

"Beatrice," Caleb says, and I turn toward him. I scowl at the smile that is on his face. How can he be smiling right now? "I'd like you to meet my mentor, Jeanine Matthews." I narrow my eyes at Caleb before I reluctantly shake the woman's hand. I recognize the name; this is the woman he worked for at Erudite Tech. She is around my dad's age with perfectly styled blond hair falling in a long bob, past her chin, and she wears a dark blue pencil skirt and jacket. Doesn't she know you're supposed to wear black to a funeral? "And Jeanine," Caleb continues, "I believe you already know my father, Andrew."

"So good to see you again, Jeanine," Dad says. He shakes her hand now, but unlike me, he wears a warm smile on his face. "Thank you for coming today."

"With all our history, Andrew, of course I wanted to offer my condolences and support," Jeanine says. History? I never heard about any history between my father and Jeanine. "If you need anything, if I can help in any way, don't hesitate to call me."

"What a kind offer," I say dryly. I don't like this woman. I don't know exactly why, but something about her rubs me the wrong way. I don't trust her.

Dad shoots me a warning look, but Jeanine ignores my tone. "Of course, I would always want to be there for an… old friend." She pulls Dad into a hug and I am disgusted at how easily he hugs back. She whispers something in his ear and I see him nod. I shake my head and walk away.

"Beatrice!" I hear, and I tense. Somehow, every time I have heard my name today, it has given me a strange feeling in my stomach. Susan, Megan and Tess suddenly surround me and smother me in a hug.

"I'm so sorry," Megan says.

"We didn't think it would be so soon!" Susan adds.

They pull back. Megan narrows her eyes, staring past me so I glance over my shoulder. "Isn't that Tobias's dad?" she asks just as I spot Mr. Eaton talking to my dad and Jeanine Matthews. Seeing Mr. Eaton reminds me of Tobias, and I'm hit with a fresh wave of grief and anger.

"Yeah," I mutter, looking down at my shoes.

"I can't believe he isn't here," Tess whisper-yells. "You really don't know where he went?"

"No, I don't," I say, my voice flat. "I already told you that. Can we stop talking about him? My family didn't know about us, remember?"

The girls nod, even though it's obvious by the look in their eyes, hungry for gossip, that they don't want to let it go.

Tess smirks at me. "So… who was that boy sitting with you?" she asks with a glint in her eye.

"Uh, that was Uriah," I say uncomfortably. "He's… I met him at the hospital."

"He's cute!" Susan gushes. "So are you two…" she wiggles her eyebrows.

"No! It's not like that," I defend. "We're just friends."

"Sure you are," she laughs. I roll my eyes, why do they have to assume that because he's a boy and I'm a girl, we can't just be friends? Why is this something we are discussing at my mother's funeral, anyway?

I fake a smile. "Well, thanks for coming," I say.

"See you at school Monday," Tess says. I won't see them Monday, I won't be going back to their school, I'll be in school with Uriah. But I don't want to talk to them any more right now so I just wave and walk away.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 7:30 PM**

I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection. I look the same as I always have, still just plain Beatrice.

I keep staring, but I don't see myself. I don't feel like the same old Beatrice any more. I close my eyes and I can feel my mother's fingers sliding soothingly over my hair, like they did the last day I spent with her while I cuddled up next to her in her hospital bed, telling her of all my adventures—telling her of pretending to be _Tris_. My eyes wet with tears, I rock back and forth, trying to push the memory from my mind. I am afraid that if I start to sob, I will never stop until I shrivel up like a raisin.

I open the top drawer of my bathroom vanity and pull out a pair of scissors.

I feel calm as I undo my the long braid in my hair and comb it. I part my hair down the middle and make sure that it is straight and flat. I close the scissors over the hair by my chin.

How can I look the same, be the same, when she's gone and everything is different? I can't.

I cut in as straight a line as I can, using my jaw as a guide. The tricky part is the back, which I can't see very well, so I do the best I can by touch instead of sight. Locks of blond surround me on the floor in a semicircle.

I look in the mirror. Beatrice is gone, and Tris stares back at me.

I think of that last day with Mom, remember how happy she looked—frail, but happy—as I told her about my adventures.

"I was like you when I was young," she had said to me. "I don't regret the life I chose, but sometimes I wonder if I might have been destined for something more. You have always loved to explore and challenge yourself. I remember when Caleb was small, he was always content to sit with puzzles and books. But not you, Beatrice."

I remember her smile, and the faraway look in her eyes.

"You were always so independent and capable," she said. "Even when you were only three or four months old, you were determined to get where you wanted to go, and to do it by yourself. I've never seen a baby roll across a room as fast as you could. You can do whatever you put your mind to. Don't settle, Beatrice."

My mother would have liked Tris and her adventures. I know what I need to do, who I need to be.

I leave the room without looking at my reflection again.


	11. Ch 11: A New Place, A New Name

**Chapter 11  
A New Place, A New Name**

 **MONDAY, AUGUST 25, 2014 | 12:20 PM**

I walk through the crowded halls beside Madison, following her lead. Uriah and I only have two classes together, but his friend Madison is in most of the others. I am grateful for that; this school is huge and so confusing that the building that most of my classes are in has been dubbed "The Maze." It's hard to imagine that I will ever find my way around.

But it's worth it. Uriah has not told his friends the details about how we met; they don't know about my mother. If I were back at Erudite Prep, I would have gone crazy already from the constant looks of pity from my friends. But here at Roth High, I am anonymous. No one knows my story. The friends I met cliff diving a few weeks ago struggled to even remember my name, so here, I am only known as Tris.

A new place, a new name. I can be remade here.

We enter the main hangout of the school campus; the students here call it 'The Hub.' It is a big open space in a central area of the school, between the two main buildings, with big floor-to-ceiling windows making up one wall and letting in plenty of natural light, and it is filled with large round tables, nearly all of them packed full of students. At one end there is a food counter that sells snack foods like nachos, giant soft pretzels, and special treats like cake. There is also a cafeteria somewhere else in the school, but I haven't seen it yet. It doesn't matter―I brought a sack lunch with me.

My eyes dart around the big room, searching for my friend, my lifeline. "Looking for your boy toy?" Madison teases me.

I elbow her in the arm; she's as bad as Caleb. He had plenty to say about my friendship with Uriah before he left back to Boston yesterday. I told him, in no uncertain terms, to mind his own business.

"He's not my 'boy toy,'" I protest. "We're just friends."

"Sure you are," she snickers.

I just shake my head and ignore her, because I have spotted Uriah at the far side of the Hub. Really, he has spotted me first― I found him across the crowded room when I saw his brown eyes locked on me and his hands waving in the air to catch my attention. I smile at him and wave, and he lets his hands drop and grins back at me before sitting down again with his friends.

The same friends I met when we went cliff jumping are here―Kenny, a lanky boy with dark hair and glasses who towers over even Uriah; Jack, a boy of average height with shaggy, reddish-blond hair who wears a leather jacket and a boyish grin; and, of course, Madison. There are some new faces, too. There is Madison's sister, Rita, who is a year younger than we are and looks a lot like Madison―the same light brown hair and green eyes―except that she is a few inches shorter and seems to be a lot quieter. To her right is Gabe, a tall, broad boy with black hair and a Superman t-shirt. They've all been friendly, but I don't feel a part of the group yet. Maybe I will in time.

As I approach the table I see that Uriah is making Gabe scoot over a seat to make room for me next to him. I gladly slide into the plastic chair, which Uriah has casually slung his arm over the back of. My stomach twists, and I can't tell if it is a good feeling or a bad one. Maybe all these comments from everyone about my friendship with Uriah are getting to my head. I can't deny that Uriah is cute―very cute―but I'm not over Tobias, not yet. The thought brings back the dream I had about him last night, the way his hands felt on my skin, the way I couldn't even think straight with his lips against my neck.

The frustration, anger and heartbreak that flooded through me when I woke alone in the dark of my room and realized that he was still gone.

Uriah grins and shakes his head. "I still can't get used to the new 'do," he chuckles, brushing the palm of his hand along the freshly-cut ends of my chin-length hair. He was the first to see it, of course―he came over after the hospital's visiting hours ended the night of Mom's funeral, and I visited his dad with him yesterday afternoon.

"You don't like it?" I ask, feeling a little disappointed.

"You're putting words in my mouth! Of course I like it."

"That, or he knows better than to ever put down a girl's hair," Gabe teases.

"I wouldn't lie about it. It's just different, _Tris,_ " he insists, emphasizing my new name. "Good different."

"Thanks," I say. "I like it, too." I'm still a little startled when I look in the mirror, but I think the shorter hair suits me. Or, at least, it suits the _new_ me―it suits _Tris._

I open my brown paper lunch bag and start to nibble on my apple, and Uriah takes his arm from the back of my chair so he can use both hands to open a package of Ding-Dongs.

"So," Madison says, "I heard that there's going to be an epic party this weekend. Bonfire down at the beach. Who's in?" Jack, Kenny and Gabe enthusiastically agree and Rita smiles and shrugs.

I glance at Uriah, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking for his answer.

"Maybe," Uriah says. "It just… depends." All his friends give him that horrible pity look. He looks at me again. "You should go either way, though, Tris."

Part of me doesn't want to do anything but sit at home and mourn my mother; another part of me does want to go…leave everything behind, like I did that first night that I adopted the name Tris. But it depends on how Jacob is doing. Uriah has been and continues to be there for me. Anything could happen this week. I want him to be able to count on me the same way I can count on him.

"We'll see," I say, reaching under the table to give his hand a light squeeze.

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2014 | 3:20 PM**

I don't tell Uriah, but I am relieved that today I don't have to visit his father in the hospital. I've always hated hospitals, but now it is the place of my nightmares―the place where I watched my mother die.

While Uriah and I were at school today, Jacob was moved back home. A hospice care nurse will frequently visit to attend to his medical needs, even though Hana is a nurse herself. This way, she can focus on spending time with her husband in the days before he passes, rather than attending to his medical care. It will add to the debt that has already grown to an amount that Hana may never finish paying off, but they, as a family, decided that he should be comfortable, at home, as he lives out his last days. I don't know whether to wish my parents had chosen the same for Mom, or relieved that they didn't. I don't know if I could stand to be faced every day with the room where she died.

I walk up to the front door with Uriah, but he stops on the last step and closes his eyes instead of going in. I turn away from the door and walk back to him. Even standing a step above him, I am still shorter than Uriah, but not by much. I wrap my arms around him and feel him hug me back, his nose buried in my hair.

"Hospice," he sighs. "You know what this means."

I just nod, I do know what it means. It means it's almost over. It means that Jacob, though he fought longer and harder than most, has finally completely given up hope, and he is accepting death. It means that his life will soon end―it could be weeks, but we both know, from what the doctors have said, that Jacob probably doesn't have that long. It may only be days.

It means that Uriah is almost out of time with his father.

I draw circles on his back with my fingers and I feel the tension in his muscles relax under my gentle touch.

"Do you want me to stay? Or would you rather have some time alone with him?" I ask. "Dad is on another business trip, I think he'll be gone a while. I can be here with you guys as much or as little as you want, Uri."

He sighs into my shoulder.

"Stay with me," he whispers.

"Okay," I whisper back.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I want to thank you all for sticking with my story so far! And again, thanks so much for your reviews. I do a little happy dance every time I see one in my email inbox. :)**_


	12. Ch 12: Feel Something

**Chapter 12  
Feel Something**

 **FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2014 | 8:55 PM**

The next week of school passed far too quickly. It wasn't that my classes were interesting, or that I was just enjoying my new friends so much… I do enjoy my new friends, and my classes are fine and easier than the classes at my old school, but none of that was what made it all feel too quick.

Jacob Pedrad took his last breath late on Tuesday night. Seeing the pain in Uriah's eyes at losing his father was like someone crushed the already shattered pieces of my heart under their heel, grinding it to dust.

Zeke, Hana and Uriah were all with him when he passed. Zeke had flown in on Monday afternoon, and we met for the first time when I picked him up from the airport. Uriah is taller than his brother, and they don't look much alike apart from their coloring, but even in the midst of crisis I could tell that Zeke and Uriah were alike in their good natured personalities.

The following two days at school seemed to drag slower than any day of school ever has before. All I could think of the whole time was Uriah. He was at home with Hana and Zeke, planning the funeral. I called Dad and begged him to let me take the days off too and be with Uriah and his family but he said the only day I could miss was Friday ― for Jacob's funeral ― and that if he got calls about any other absences this week he would send me straight back to Erudite Prep. That shut me up fast.

Jacob's funeral was this afternoon. It was not like Mom's at all; instead, Jacob's was a "celebration of life," full of stories and laughter. I wished that we could have celebrated Mom in the same way, but those had not been my decisions to make.

I climb into the treehouse with a couple of pizzas as I have done many times before. I didn't work today, I've barely worked in these past few weeks, but I talked a coworker into giving me some free pizza anyway. Uriah's favorite, pepperoni and pineapple, and the kind I have now learned that Zeke likes best, all meat and no veggies.

"Where'd you find this angel, Uriah?" Zeke chuckles as he opens his pizza box. "Damn, Tris, you know just what to do to cheer us up, don't you?"

I laugh and blush. "It's nothing. I couldn't have gotten through the last month or two without Uriah and your parents. Anything I can do to repay all the kindness―"

"Please," Uriah interrupts. "You make it sound like it's all been us taking care of you. You know this has been a two-way street from the start."

"I guess," I mumble. I don't like the attention, so I change the subject. "So, Zeke," I say. "Tell us about Oregon." Everything has been so focused on Jacob, and the funeral ― as it should have been, of course ― that Zeke hasn't talked much at all about his life in Portland.

"Well," Zeke laughs, "first of all, turns out we're all saying it wrong. They pronounce it _ORE-gun._ " We spend the next minute or so trying to correctly pronounce the name of the state that Zeke now lives in and we laugh as Zeke tells us about how the natives have reacted to his incorrect pronunciations of the names of major landmarks and places.

Zeke tells us about his job at Intel; he's about to start working toward a degree in computer engineering at Portland State University later this month.

"People are really cool, I've made a bunch of friends. I―"

"Any _girl_ friends?" Uriah interrupts in a classic little brother teasing, sing-songy voice.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "Uh, yes… what, you don't think I can be friends with a girl? You do realize _your_ best friend is this girl sitting right here, don't you?"

"Then why are your ears turning red?" Uriah laughs. "What's her name?"

Now red is creeping up Zeke's neck, too. "Shauna," he mumbles. "Now shut up. Anyway, people are cool, the city's cool, it's even only an hour or so to the ocean. And this winter I definitely want to try snowboarding in the mountains."

"Wow, I've never been to the ocean," I say.

"You guys should come out and visit sometime," Zeke suggests. "You know you've got a free place to stay. Even if you leave this pansycake back here in Chicago." Zeke wraps his arm around his brother's neck and rubs his knuckles into Uriah's hair. "You're family now, after all." I smile; it's been amazing how easily Uriah's whole family has taken me in, accepted me, welcomed me with open arms. I will never be able to repay them for their kindness.

"How's the apartment?" I ask. "Uriah said you got a killer deal."

"Yeah, I did. But the roommate situation is not so great. The guy renting the other room is a freak."

"Oh god, what did he do now?" Uriah laughs.

"Wait, you haven't told me anything about this roommate," I interrupt, narrowing my eyes at Uriah. "I want to hear about the stuff Uri knows about, too."

"Well," Zeke says, tossing aside an empty bottle of tequila, then opening a new one, "first of all, he just fucking _loves_ liver and onions. And cooked cabbage must be his second favorite. God, the smell! He's always leaving his underwear on the bathroom floor, and he's got a different random walking around the apartment every morning. I mean, I've got nothing against the guy getting laid, but they eat all my food!" I snicker. "And he binge drinks like, four times a week. I don't know how I'll get any studying done with him around, once school starts."

"Okay, okay, so what did he do this time?" Uriah asks eagerly before taking a shot of tequila and passing the bottle to me.

Zeke shakes his head. "Hold on, I need another shot for this story." I grin as Zeke takes a shot and passes the bottle back to his brother. "So, the other night I was hanging out in my room with my friends, right? And Eric's in the next room with one of his whores, on one of his drinking binges. Well, the guy was just totally fucking wasted. He stumbles into my room ― literally stumbles, like he tripped over Christina's shoes ― and then he goes into my closet and shuts the door."

"Into your closet?" I say, puzzled.

Zeke nods. "Yeah. Into my closet. Then we hear him say, 'What the hell kind of toilet is this? Oh well, it's all the same.' And then…"

"Oh no," Uriah says, already doubled over laughing.

"Oh, yes," Zeke says with a grimace. "The asshole peed in my fucking closet! In a box with new shoes in it! I had to throw them out!"

I laugh so hard my sides ache. Uriah, Zeke and I continue passing the bottle of tequila around for a while before Zeke announces that he's going to go check on Hana and climbs out of the treehouse.

Uriah sighs and lays back in his bean bag chair, downing more tequila, no longer bothering with the shot glass. He lifts his head and looks over at me, and waves me over with his hand. I stumble on my way across the wooden floor; I must already be a lot more drunk than I thought. But I don't care, I feel better this way.

I join Uriah in his bean bag and snuggle up to him before taking the bottle from his hand and gulping some down. "It was a really nice memorial service," I say, my words sounding sluggish. Uriah is probably avoiding the subject, but _I_ need to talk about it. I really liked his dad, and losing him so soon after my mom… "I...it just...I wish my mom's had been more like that."

Uriah nods. "Yeah. It was. Tris, you've been…" He shakes his head. Even though the world is a bit unsteady and blurry in my inebriated state, I see the tears gathering in his eyes as I look up at him. "You're amazing, you know that? I don't know what I would have done… how I would have survived these last few weeks. How I would survive everything that's coming…"

"You don't have to thank me," I whisper. "You know I feel the same."

Uriah reaches out and cups my cheek in his palm, strokes my skin with his thumb. "I know, you're just...these have been the worst few months of my life and it's been everything to me, having you here with me."

I don't know when he leaned in, or maybe I did. All I know is that suddenly, his lips are on mine. I just want to forget everything around me, be closer to this amazing boy that is pressed up against me. To be able to feel something, anything. To take away all the pain we have both had to deal with in the last few months. So as he kisses me… I kiss back.


	13. Ch 13: Walk of Shame

_**A/N: I'm updating a day early because I expect to be busy with the 4th of July holiday tomorrow. Have a safe and happy Independence Day to those here in the USA.**_

 _ **Yes, I'm still planning on this story being Fourtris, in case you're having your doubts! We'll hear what Tobias has been up to soon-ish. Thanks as always for your reviews!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 13  
Walk of Shame**

 _Something wakes me, and at first I am not sure what. I can feel the warmth radiating from Tobias's body next to me in his bed and I look around the room for a moment before grabbing my phone to check for any missed calls or texts. Dad is out of town and Mom thinks I'm sleeping over at Susan's. Susan is covering for me, but I want to make sure there haven't been any problems. The screen is blank, no notifications. I sigh in relief._

" _Beatrice!" Tobias calls out my name where he lays beside me. It's somewhere between a whisper and a cry, and I lift my head to see what is the matter. I can barely see him in the dark room, the street lights shining through the blinds are the only source of light._

 _Tobias is laying on his back on the inside of the bed, closer to the wall. I know I fell asleep with his chest pressed against my back, and his right arm is still trapped beneath me but he is not sleeping soundly. He twists and writhes, tangling himself in the sheets, and his brows have knitted together with a deep crease between them._

" _No!" he calls out, louder this time. "No! Not her. Please...Beatrice…"_

 _I sit up in bed, grip his shoulders in my hands and begin shaking him awake. "Tobias," I say gently, leaning in close to his ear. "Tobias, wake up." His face twists as if in agony and one arm flies out; I barely dodge it before it would hit me in the face. "Wake up for me. Please, Tobias!" I begin kissing his forehead and cheeks, continuing to beg for him to come out of whatever nightmare he is having._

 _Suddenly his eyelids fly open. I see the panic in his eyes as he searches my face, breathing heavily. "Beatrice," he whispers, reaching up to stroke my cheek with his thumb. "You're alright."_

" _It was only a dream, Tobias." My voice is shaking and my heart is pounding. Seeing him like that, not being able to pull him out of his nightmare, it scared me. "I'm here. You're fine. We're okay. It was just a bad dream."_

 _He nods slowly, the slivers of yellow light from the window making the tears pooling in his eyes glisten. He pulls me close, so my chin rests in the hollow of his neck, and presses his lips to my forehead. I lay my hand on his chest and feel his heart pounding through his skin. "Do you want to talk about it?" I ask him._

 _Tobias is silent for a long moment, then he shakes his head. "Okay," I whisper. I melt further into him and sigh. "I love you, Tobias."_

 _Tobias traps my chin between his fingers and tilts my face up to look at him. "I love you too, Beatrice," he says quietly. Then he leans in and captures my lips in his own. He kisses me sweetly at first, but it soons becomes hungry, both of us forgetting whatever it was that had tormented his sleep, and before I know it his hands are gripping my hips, our tongues are exploring each other's mouths, and we are desperately trying to get closer to each other even though we are already pressed against each other, even though there isn't even a scrap of fabric between us, but it still isn't close enough._

 _I hear him rummaging in the nightstand drawer for a condom but we still don't break the kiss, we need one another too desperately, can't stand to break apart from each other. His mouth trails down my jaw, my neck, my sternum and I am panting, arching my back toward him, can't think, can't breathe, can't separate myself from him, just need to be one with him._

 _He pulls away only to rip the wrapper open with his teeth and I roll the condom onto him. He kisses back up my hot, damp skin, sucks at my neck for a moment. Then he captures me in another scorching kiss just as I feel him push into me―_

* * *

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014 | 8:10 AM**

My eyes fly open, my breaths coming fast and shallow. I look around the room, and it isn't dark like it was a moment ago, but brightly lit with morning light that shines in through the uncovered window. I am too warm, body heat radiating off of Tobias's naked body next to my own.

No, not Tobias. Tobias is gone. And this isn't Tobias's room.

It's Uriah's room.

Now my breath is shallow and fast for an entirely different reason. I slowly and carefully roll over, suddenly extremely aware that nothing separates my skin from the sheets, which are pulled up only to my waist, leaving my breasts completely exposed to the air.

I finally dare to look at the person next to me. I knew who it was but I didn't want to believe it. But now, seeing Uriah sprawled out next to me on his stomach with the sheet draped around his waist, I can't deny what is in front of me, what I am seeing with my own eyes.

His lips are parted and one arm is under the pillow, folded beneath it under his head. He looks younger in his sleep, just as Tobias always did. His back is bare, shirtless, and I can't see below his waist with the bunched up sheet over his lower half but I know that he is as naked as I am.

Tears pool in my eyes, I feel like I am going to hyperventilate.

What have I done?

 _How could I be so stupid and careless?!_

I slept with my best friend, my rock, my lifeline. And it will change _everything._ I know it.

Tears begin to stream down my cheeks and I wipe them away with my hands. I have to get out of here. I have to leave, before he wakes up, and figure out what to do. Maybe if I get out of here fast enough, before he wakes, he won't remember it. We were really, _really_ drunk last night.

But not so drunk as to prevent flashes of memory from coming back to me. I can only hope that Uriah was more wasted than I was.

I gingerly inch off the bed, careful not to wake him. I quietly search the floor to pick out my own discarded clothing from the mess of Uriah's dirty clothes that litter the floor. When I find them, I dress carefully, ignoring the pounding in my head from the worst hangover I've ever had. I pick up my flip flops and carry them in one hand as I slip silently out of the room, closing the door but not latching it, not wanting to risk any sound waking him before I can get out of here.

I have to leave. I have to think.

I tiptoe down the stairs. The house is quiet. Good. When I checked my phone a minute ago it read 8:15, so there's a chance that I will be able to escape before anyone wakes, or at least before they venture downstairs.

I'm almost to the front door, for a minute I think I've made it. I am only a little over a yard away, already reaching for the handle when I hear the knob jiggle and the door swings open.

I jump and gasp and Zeke gives me a puzzled look as he walks in. His face is red with beads of sweat, his hair nearly dripping, and he wears basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt that is visibly drenched from perspiration. He must just be getting back from a morning run.

"Morning, Tris. Wild night, eh?" he chuckles. "I'll pretend I didn't witness the walk of shame." Then he winks. I just want to crawl under a rock and never come out. Judging by the way my cheeks feel like they are on fire, he can probably tell.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," I mumble. "See ya, Zeke."

My car is just parked at the curb, but right now, each yard may as well be a mile. I can't get out of here fast enough.

I start my car and speed off. But when I am a safe distance from Uriah's house, I pull over and bury my face in my hands and cry.

Because I know that I just ruined the one thing in my life that I could count on.


	14. Ch 14: Closure

**Chapter 14  
** _ **Closure**_

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014** | **8:45 AM | TRIS**

I arrive home feeling heavy, right through to my bones. All I want is to take something to stop the pounding in my head, then curl up in my silent, empty house and sleep. Maybe I can sleep for a hundred years, like Sleeping Beauty. At least that way by the time I woke up, it wouldn't matter any more that I messed up the one really good thing in my life.

I park my car in the driveway and drag my feet on my way into the house. My home used to always feel warm and inviting but I have realized that it wasn't the house or any of the things in it. It was my mother. Home was wherever she was. _She_ made it warm and inviting. _She_ made it a home. But now I hate being here; it feels cold and empty, just like me.

My eyes feel dry and scratchy, I haven't looked in a mirror yet this morning but they're probably bloodshot. My hair is probably a rat's nest too after last night's _activities._ I'm shaking my head and hoping none of the neighbors got a good look at me on my way in as I walk into the kitchen. I jump when I look up and see that I am not alone.

"Where have you been, Beatrice?" My dad's voice sounds calm, but I can see the anger in his eyes.

"Dad," I gasp. "I didn't know you were coming home this weekend."

"Obviously," he scoffs. "You never came home last night. Look at you. You're a fucking mess."

"I…" I gulp and stare at him, wide-eyed. "Jacob's funeral was yesterday. I was spending time with Uriah and his brother. I ― I slept there last night." Of all days for him to have come home, it just _had_ to be today.

"And you couldn't bother responding to my calls and texts?" He stares me down.

I slowly take my phone out of my pocket and look at it; I was so panicked when I woke in Uriah's bed, I barely glanced at the time display. I didn't even register the notifications for three texts and two missed calls from my father.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I take a deep breath in and out to try and steady my shaking voice, and I blink back tears. Tears that have been there long before this conversation with my father. "I silenced my phone for the funeral yesterday. I must have forgotten to turn the ringer back on."

Dad gets up and takes his coffee mug to the pot on the counter for a refill. I can't help noticing that he looks just as put together as always, and it doesn't look like he lost any sleep. He must not have been _that_ worried about me. I'm sure that he could have guessed where I might be, he could always have called Hana or driven over there, but he didn't.

"Is this a common occurrence, Beatrice? Having 'sleepovers' with that ― that little _punk._ "

"He's not a 'punk!'" I cry. He can say whatever he wants about me, but not Uriah. He doesn't know a thing about Uriah, he never bothered enough to try and get to know him at all. "Who do you think held me after Mom died? Who answers when I call, no matter how late, and brings me chocolate cake when I am too sad to get out of bed? I sure haven't been able to count on _you,_ my own father. You don't even know Uriah, you have no right to judge him!"

"You will not speak to me that way, Beatrice!" he shouts.

I just glare at him. "It's _Tris,_ " I spit. Turning on my heel, I leave him behind without another word or even another look and run up to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014** | **9:50 AM**

I have been lying on the bed just staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour. I'm totally zoned out, thoughts are zig-zagging through my mind so fast that it's like my brain can't complete one before it's interrupted by the next. And I have no one to talk to about it, no one to help me calm my racing thoughts. My mom is dead, Tobias is gone, and Uriah is the very reason I am freaking out right now. I feel so alone.

My phone chimes, grabbing my attention and quieting my mind for a moment. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I know the text will be from Uriah, and when I do look at the screen, I see that my prediction was correct.

 _Uriah  
[I heard there's another bonfire party tonight. You going? Maybe we could meet up and talk?]_

I stare at the phone, feeling completely awkward as I formulate a response in my head. Since when am I awkward with Uri?

 _Tris  
[I don't think I can. Dad is home.]_

I'm sure I could slip out the door if I wanted to. I guess now I'm lying to Uriah, too. I shake my head, disgusted with myself.

 _Uriah  
[Oh. Can we meet up tomorrow?]_

 _Tris  
[Not sure. I'll try.]_

I chew on my lip. Even our texts feel awkward. Usually Uriah and I tease each other back and forth, but it seems that today, neither of us know what to say.

I think a shower will make me feel better, but it doesn't. The emotions swirling in me are so confusing and overwhelming, but one of them bothers me more than others. It's the guilt ― guilt because I feel like I betrayed Tobias.

It's so stupid. He _left_ me. He didn't even say goodbye! And yet here I am, feeling like I cheated on him, when he has made it clear in the single communication I received from him that he is never coming back, that I will never see him again. Obviously we're over, so why does it still feel as if he carried my heart with him to wherever the hell he ran off to?

In the blink of an eye all that guilt and despair turns to all out rage, I am overcome with anger at him for so completely possessing my heart. I'm sure it's no coincidence that I dreamed about sleeping with Tobias while I was in Uriah's arms, right after the first time I had sex with someone other than my ex-boyfriend. Maybe if Tobias would have at least properly broken up with me, this wouldn't be so confusing, maybe I wouldn't still hold this ridiculous loyalty to some asshole who doesn't deserve for me to ever think of him again.

After I received his goodbye email all those weeks ago, surely the closest thing to 'closure' that I will get from him, I grabbed everything out in the open that had reminded me of him and placed it all in a box. It rests on the top shelf of my closet. Now I pull it down and open it. Not to look at its contents. No, I don't take a single thing out of the box.

Then I think of the bonfire. With Zeke home right now, and Hana needing her boys' support, I doubt Uriah will be there if not to talk with me about last night.

I begin tearing through my closet, through every drawer, under the bed, anywhere I can think of. Every single gift Tobias gave me, every photo, anything that was his or even reminds me of him is thrown into that box. After two years together, there is enough to fill it to the brim and I have to rearrange it a bit in order to close the top, but I manage to do so without pulling anything back out. I don't want any reminder of Tobias to ever make its way out of this box again, and soon, even the box will be gone.

Finally I close the box. It feels final. But not quite final enough.

I set the box by the door to my room and look at the clock. Nine more hours until the bonfire party.

In nine hours, the fire can cleanse the last pieces of Tobias, and with it the last bits of Beatrice, from my life forever.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014** | **8:40 PM**

I feel numb. I don't feel the heat from the bonfire, even though I am sitting less than two yards away from it. I don't taste the beer I just sipped from which now sits on the ground by my feet. I hardly notice the laughter and yells of the mass of my classmates surrounding me.

I barely even notice the way the corner of the box―the box of my memories with Tobias― digs into the soft flesh of my upper arm as I hug it tightly to my chest.

This is harder than I thought it would be.

I stare into the fire, trying to summon the courage to throw the remnants of my relationship with Tobias into the flames. I need to cleanse the memories of him from my mind, his lingering presence from my life, and the last bits of Beatrice with it.

I am so lost in my own thoughts that I don't notice Uriah sitting down next to me until he speaks. "What's in the box?" he asks.

I turn to look at him, feeling anxious. I don't know if I can handle facing a conversation with Uriah right now. It's too much, especially when I am trying to find closure for my relationship with Tobias. But this is Uriah, my best friend, even if I screwed it up I can trust him enough for an answer. That is, if I could find the words. But I can't. So I just hand him the box.

Uriah removes the rubber band I used to hold it closed and removes the lid. His eyes widen. "Tobias?" he asks gently. I nod. "And you're planning to…"

"Throw it in the fire," I say in a monotone. "It still hurts. I just… I want to forget him."

Uriah stares at me for a long moment. In the past weeks I have become so good at reading his face, even just the look in his eyes. But right now, I can't.

Finally he shakes his head and hands the box back to me, the lid still open. "Go home, Tris," he says. "Go put this away somewhere you won't have to see it, but don't burn it. You'd regret that one day." I stare down into the box, my eyes skimming over some of my most cherished memories. On the top is a dried rose from the bouquet he gave me on our six-month anniversary. A movie ticket stub from our first date. The charm bracelet he gave me for my last birthday.

A tear drops onto the ferris wheel charm that hangs off the bracelet in memory of our first kiss. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his lips brushing tentatively against mine, the way my heart pounded in my chest, the electricity shooting up my arm from where my fingers were intertwined with his.

Tears are streaming down my face as I finally look back up at Uriah. Uriah simply leans in and kisses the top of my head, then he stands and walks away, disappearing into the crowd.

I carefully close the box and secure it with the rubber band once again. I sit, surrounded by people but utterly alone, staring at the fire, hugging the box to my chest.

I don't know if Uriah is right that I would regret burning these memories, but I do know that it is an act that I could never take back. If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that I do not want regrets.

So finally, I do as Uriah said: I get up, carrying the box with me to my car, and go home.

But the tears don't stop.

I don't know if they ever will.


	15. Ch 15: The Morning After

_So far this story has been entirely from Tris POV, but that is about to change right now. We're going to get to hear from a couple other characters in the next chapters. The POV will be indicated next to the date at the top of the scene. As always, thank you so much for your reviews! I love hearing what you are thinking about the story._

 **Chapter 15  
** _ **The Morning After**_

 **SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2014 | 10:05 AM | ZEKE**

Tris is sitting at a table in the back corner of the Starbucks when I walk in. I'm a couple minutes late. I see that she has a cup in her hand and another sitting at the table, so I skip the line and weave between the tables to meet her.

"Iced Americano, right?" she says when I sit down. "Two creams and six sugars?"

"You've got a good memory," I smile at her. She and I had run through a Starbucks drive-thru on our way back from the airport nearly a week ago, but I hadn't expected her to be paying any attention.

Tris shrugs. "I'm observant." She looks down and fiddles with the straw wrapper for her chai tea, flattening it with her thumb then slowly folding it into a small, fat triangle. Tris had texted me about an hour ago asking for my help, but she wouldn't tell me what she needed me to do for her. Said she'd tell me when I got there. And she asked me not to mention it to Uri.

It felt weird making excuses to my brother so that I could go and see his girl, or his best friend, or whatever the hell they are. They seem so close, I don't know what she could possibly be about to tell me that she doesn't want him to know. And she's still not speaking. Seems I'll have to drag it out of her.

I clear my throat. "So... this is nice and all, Tris, and as much as I would love to hang out with you... I'm catching a plane in eight hours so... mind telling me why we're here?"

Tris keeps her eyes on that straw wrapper, smoothing it out only so she can fold it up once again. But at least this time she speaks. "Well um, I think you know what happened between Uriah and me the other night…" She glances up at me, her cheeks turning pink.

"You slept with my brother," I say. Her cheeks turn from pink to red now. "It's not a big deal, Tris. No judgment here. What, are we here for the whole advice thing?"

"Um, no," she says slowly. "It's, um… you see…" she stutters. I sit back in my chair and wait patiently, she's obviously embarrassed and I don't want to make it worse. "I don't think we, um… I don't think we used… protection."

My eyes practically bug out of my head. I can't believe my brother would do something that stupid. Have I taught him nothing?!

"I don't know for sure," she mumbles. "I was really drunk, I don't remember that much. But I don't remember, um…" She buries her face in her hands.

Of course they would be _that_ stupid. Hell, I know there was one night that I was that stupid myself, right after Dad told us about his diagnosis. It was a girl from school, and she took Plan B, but I was still nervous for weeks after till I finally gathered up enough courage to ask her. Had to go get tested for STDs, too, just in case.

What they need right now is not a lecture. People do stupid things when they are grieving. But remembering when I made the same mistake, I realize what Tris needs. I even realize why she chose this particular Starbucks: there's a pharmacy across the parking lot.

"Plan B," I say. "You need the morning after pill."

Tris's shoulders relax as she nods. "Yes. I'm not old enough to buy it over-the-counter. I have the cash, but… can you…?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Will it still work? It's been…"

"A little less than 36 hours," she finishes for me. "They say within the first 72 hours, but the sooner the better."

"Well, then, we had better not waste any more time. You got that cash?"

* * *

I hand Tris the bag and she quickly slips it into the large purse she is carrying. "There wasn't any change," I admit. She looks confused. "I bought you a second box. I mean, I'm leaving tonight. I won't be here if you need it again so… put it away somewhere, just in case. I'd rather you have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

I don't mention that I paid the sales tax myself; that shit is expensive! But Uriah has mentioned that Tris's family has plenty of money, she didn't seem to think twice about handing over a $100 bill to me ― at least not for this purpose ― and the last thing Tris or Uri, or Mom for that matter, needs is a kid to further complicate their lives. I'm already sending whatever extra money I can scrounge up to help with the payments on Dad's medical bills, so I will chip in without complaint to make sure there are no _surprises._ Just wish I had known to buy this stuff ― both the pills for Tris and the box of condoms I picked up for Uri ― back in Portland, where I wouldn't have had to pay sales tax.

"Thanks, Zeke," she sighs. "I really hope I won't be that stupid a second time, but…"

"Better safe than sorry," I say. Then I remember the bottled water I picked up at the checkstand, pull it out of my plastic shopping bag and begin to unscrew the cap. "Here, I grabbed a water so you can take that pill right away. The sooner you take it, the more effective it is." Tris nods and opens the box with shaky fingers. After she gets the pill out she quickly gulps some of the water to swallow it down.

"This should work, right?" she asks me, wringing her hands.

I shrug. "Should. The box says it's 89% effective within 72 hours." I check my watch. It's almost 11, I should get back. I'll have to leave for the airport in a few hours. "Look, Tris, my brother really cares about you. I can tell you're really important to him." Uriah has been antsy ever since he got up yesterday. Even though Dad died less than a week ago, I know my brother. I can tell a lot of it is because of what happened between him and Tris.

"He's really important to me, too, Zeke," she says softly.

"Good," I say. I know she cares about him, but it's still a relief to hear it. "Take care of him for me, okay? I know maybe things are a little weird right now but… don't shut him out for too long."

"Okay." I can see tears in her eyes. I reach out and give her a hug, and she hugs me back. "Thanks, Zeke."

"Don't mention it. Call me sometime, yeah? Like I said… you're family now."

Tris smiles for the first time this morning. "Okay. You too, Zeke. And…can you not mention all this to Uriah? I don't want to give him more to worry about."

"My lips are sealed." I squeeze her one more time and get into my car, and with a wave, I drive back home to my family.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2014 | 7:10 PM | URIAH**

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

The only sound in the house is the second hand on the hall clock. It feels so empty. I've managed to avoid being here alone much since Zeke moved to Portland. I was always at the hospital visiting Dad, or when I couldn't be there, I was with Tris.

But Tris is not here now.

Mom is driving Zeke to the airport right now. I don't know when I will see my brother again. It's just me and Mom now. And I'm sure Mom will go back to working tons of overtime, just like she had been until the last few weeks. Dad is gone, but his medical bills aren't, and I have a feeling Mom doesn't like the quiet of the house any more than I do.

My dad, he always seemed to fill any room he was in. He was a big guy, yes ― tall, strong, and powerful. But it wasn't his size, it was his personality, his presence. It was his big, hearty laugh and his enthusiasm for life. It was the way he made every person he invited into our home feel like family, the way he made almost any boring situation fun.

It was the way he never gave up, never let anything discourage him. That's why when he came home for hospice care, I felt like I had lost him already. Because _my dad_ wasn't the kind of guy who gave up. Ever.

When Zeke came home from his errands today with a box of condoms for me, making a joke about having caught Tris sneaking out the other morning, it hurt to realize that Zeke was taking over for Dad. Because I remember that it was Dad that first bought me condoms, made sure I knew how to use them properly. That was Dad's job, not Zeke's.

But Dad isn't here anymore.

After those thoughts finished running through my mind I realized that I have no idea whether Tris and I used protection that night. I have condoms buried deep in a drawer, but did I use one? I can't remember. At least calming me down from that whole panic seemed normal. This wasn't a mistake I'd ever made before, and I probably would have gone first to Zeke even if Dad were here.

Zeke assured me that Tris is a smart girl and he was sure that if she's not on birth control, she'll do what needs to be done. But it all just made it that much more real how much I might have screwed up my friendship with Tris. And I don't know how I can possibly get through this without her.

I texted her right after Zeke and Mom left, and she did get back to me quickly, but she said she wasn't feeling well, and not to come by since her dad was there. I can't help wondering if she's telling me the truth. I can't stand that she might be avoiding me. I have never kept secrets from Tris and as far as I know she has never kept any from me either but now… I don't know.

I wander through the house. Dad's presence is everywhere. It's in the worn spot in his armchair. It's in the stack of board games sitting on a shelf under the TV. It's in the collection of Seinfeld DVDs on a nearby bookshelf. It's in his favorite coffee mug sitting by the kitchen sink. Mom has been using that mug, I think it makes her feel closer to him.

I am drawn to all these pieces of him around the house, but they make it all hurt more at the same time. Each time I touch something that he has left behind the pain in my chest grows.

I wander into the guest room. The hospital bed is still there, it will be picked up tomorrow. I stare at it. The exact place where he died. I walk toward it on autopilot, grabbing Dad's favorite blanket off the chair, then I climb on the bare mattress.

I curl around the blanket and bury my face in it. It still smells like him. Only he didn't smell like that at the end. I wonder if Mom might have sprayed some of his cologne on it, maybe she's had the same idea I have now.

I've cried after Dad died, but I've been able to hold most of it back. But now, I don't have Tris here to lean on. I don't have anyone. It's just me, lying here curled up in the fetal position, burying my nose in my dead father's blanket.

And I finally let go.

I sob like I have never sobbed before, until I hurt all over and I can't breathe. My whole body shudders and shakes but I don't stop. My tears soak the blanket, but I don't care.

He's gone. He's gone, and he's never coming back.

And here I am.

Alone.


	16. Ch 16: Albuquerque

_A/N: Publishing this a few hours early as it's still Friday here, but I know you've been waiting to hear from Tobias. I would really love to hear what you think about this one!_

* * *

 **Chapter 16  
** _ **Albuquerque**_

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2014 | 11:40 PM | TOBIAS**

"Come back when you're twenty-one, kid," the bouncer says as he pushes me out the door. I've managed to buy a drink at this bar before, but it seems the weekend staff is a bit more strict than the ones who were working here mid-week. I don't even remember what day it was; they all seem to run together. It might be because the bartender last time was a girl; she tried to flirt with me instead of bothering to check my ID. I flirted back, only so I'd have a place to hang out for the night.

If I really wanted to get wasted, I could pay some bum to buy me something from the Circle K convenience store that's just down the block. I've done that before, too ― a foul smelling man with rotten teeth took my money and brought me back a forty of something he told me would "put my dick in the dirt." The malt liquor didn't disappoint, and I did forget my troubles for a few hours. But when I woke in an alley the next morning, all my regrets and worries had returned and I had the worst hangover of my life. To make matters worse, my pocket knife was gone along with the fifteen dollars I had been carrying in my pocket. Good thing the rest of my money was hidden under the insole of my shoe.

But I don't care about the drink tonight. I would have been happy with a soda. All I really wanted was a place to hang out for a few hours, and not much else is open this late at night. My claustrophobia makes spending too much time sitting in my car pretty unbearable. At first, park benches and empty alleyways were alright, but they've lost what little appeal they initially held. The only appeal, of course, was that they weren't enclosed like my car.

I ditched my truck before I even made it out of Illinois, close enough to home that it wouldn't give my so-called father, Marcus, any clues where to look for me. From there, I took a bus to Ohio, where I bought the car that I am basically living in now. I really wanted to get a larger vehicle, one I could at least stretch out in. But with very limited funds and no idea how I would earn money from here on out, I went with a gas efficient little two-door car. It got me as far as Albuquerque before it broke down. I didn't really have a destination in mind, and I know I am far enough from Chicago to be safe. I don't like being stuck. But I don't have enough money left to fix the car.

I turn the corner to disappear into nearby alleyway. A streetlight near the entrance provides some light, but it's easy to shrink into the shadows here. I sit against the wall near a dumpster and unzip my backpack to dig around for the granola bars I bought earlier. Most of my things are locked in my car, but anything irreplaceable is in this backpack. A blue glass sculpture my mother gave me before her death, wrapped in a sweatshirt so it won't break; a stack of photos ― some of them from my childhood, the only things besides the sculpture that I have to remember my mother by; others are recent...all featuring Beatrice.

 _Beatrice._ My stomach flips with guilt for the umpteenth time today, just as it does every time I think of her.

I hadn't planned to send her that email, but I just couldn't leave her without a single word. I hope she believes the words I wrote to her, even though I know that they were not enough. I'm not good with words. But even if I were, I know there could never be words that could really be _enough_ to make up for leaving her like I did. There could never be words that could truly express how much I loved her, how perfect she truly is.

I know she will move on. She will be alright. Beatrice isn't like me. She has other people who love her.

I only had Beatrice.

That's why I couldn't tell her I was leaving. If she had asked me to stay I could never have forced myself to walk away from her. And I could never have expected her to come with me. She loves her mother too much to just leave her family behind like I would have needed her to. If I couldn't leave her, and I couldn't ask her to come with me, that would only leave me forever trapped with that monster I was forced to call my father.

I run my fingers over the texture of the most important possession in this bag: an eight- by ten-inch painting of the ferris wheel where Beatrice and I shared our first kiss. Beatrice gave it to me on our one year anniversary. She told me that she snuck off to Navy Pier any chance she got for weeks so she could be sure she got it right. A photograph wasn't enough, she told me. She couldn't get the feeling of the place from just a photograph. Beatrice has always been so passionate. It's one of the things I love about her.

She wasn't the first girl I had ever kissed, but she was certainly the first girl I ever loved. In fact, she is the _only_ girl I have ever loved. And I don't think I'll ever love another the way I love her.

I stand and step out of the shadow to admire the painting. Sighing, I run my fingers over the canvas once again before crouching to return it safely to my backpack. I know it wouldn't have been fair to her, to ask her to leave her family to come with me, but I didn't know that even months later I would feel so empty without her.

The sound of a glass bottle rolling down the cracked concrete of the alleyway startles me and I clutch my backpack tightly in my balled fists.

"Well, what do we have here?" a voice sneers. I step back, trying to shrink again into the shadows, at the same time as the man struts out into the light. "What's in the bag, kid?"

"Nothing," I say quickly. Too quickly. More men step out of the shadows, pace closer to me. There are five of them.

Another grins, not a friendly grin, but menacing. "I don't know about that," he says. "Looks like whatever is in there is pretty important. Give us the bag and empty your pockets, and you won't get hurt, kid."

I try to position myself with my back to the other end of the alleyway, and I begin slowly backing away from them. "There's nothing you'll want in here," I say calmly. "Pictures of people you don't know, keepsakes." My fingers fumble with the side pocket, searching for anything I could defend myself with ― anything at all.

"You've gotta have something good in there," the first man speculates. I keep slowly backing away, but they take a step forward for each step I take back.

I can't let them take this bag. Not my photos, not my mother's sculpture, and certainly not Beatrice's painting.

But I also don't know how to get out of this situation.

"No," I growl. "You're not getting this bag. You'd have to pry it out of my cold, dead fingers."

My fingers shake, it's cold in the desert at night. I've got the zipper open, and my fingers scramble in the pocket frantically, I don't even know what I am looking for. If only I hadn't gotten so wasted that someone was able to steal that knife from my pocket, at least I'd have _something._ But the only thing I've managed to grab is my toothbrush when one, even taller than me with a shaved head and a spider tattooed on his neck, lunges at me. "If that's what it takes," he sneers.

His fingers wrap around my wrist, tight, too tight. With my free hand, I toss the backpack quickly in an open dumpster, I can get it back later. The man's eyes follow it to the dumpster but I can't let him get it, I have to distract him.

So I spit in his face.

"You little shit!" he screeches.

That's when the first blow hits my jaw. I only stumble back slightly, and my hand flinches toward the pain by reflex but I have taken far worse than this many times before. I'm a pro at enduring pain after a childhood filled with it. The proof is carved into my back.

I strike back, catching him off guard; he didn't expect me to stand up to his punch. The next minutes are filled with kicks and punches that gradually wear me down, but I don't give up. I endure. It's what I do best.

But there are five of them and only one of me. For a while I think I'm going to make it, I really do. But by the time the fourth man hits the ground and doesn't get back up, I know I am past my limits. My right arm hangs uselessly at my side due to a dislocated shoulder, the world around me spins and dips and sways, and I don't think there is a single inch of my body that isn't screaming in pain. There is still one left, the one who seems to be the leader, the biggest, most intimidating one of all.

And I have nothing left.

I try to pick myself back up off the ground but I can't. It's worse than any beating I ever endured by Marcus's hand, or even by his belt, and when the man kicks me again and again in my stomach, I give up. I know this is it. He isn't going to stop until I am damaged beyond repair, or even dead.

Maybe I shouldn't have made that comment about having to pry the bag out of my fingers. And they won't even have to do that; they'll only have to grab it out of the dumpster. Won't they be disappointed when they find that I wasn't lying, that all I was protecting were some clothes, toiletries, a glass sculpture and a teenage girl's painting.

Things that are valuable to no one but me.

Another kick sends white-hot pain ripping through my stomach and I cry out. I learned long ago to hold my cries and screams inside, but I can't keep it in against this assault. I make one last attempt to get up and it's slow, but that's when I realize that the blows have stopped. I look up and crawl back in surprise when I find that a man I have never seen before is raining down punches on my attacker.

In no time, my rescuer has left the man lying unconscious in the alleyway along with his friends. He crouches in front of me and looks me over while I just stare. He's big and his black shirt is tight around his muscled chest and arms. He wears his black hair slicked back into a ponytail, and while he is intimidating, his eyes show mercy and concern.

"What's your name, kid?" he asks. "I'm Amar." I open my mouth to answer, then close it without saying anything. What if he wants to find my family, to send me back where I came from? Then this would all be for nothing. And Marcus would probably finish what these goons didn't.

Amar sighs, then grabs me by my good arm and pulls me to my feet. He reaches for my right arm but I wave him off. "I got it," I pant before shuffling to the brick wall on one side of the alleyway. I brace myself before walking my fingers up the wall, and I clench my teeth to hold in a scream as my shoulder pops back into place.

"I take it you've done that before," Amar says with narrowed eyes. I just shrug, and Amar shakes his head and sighs.

"Come on, kid," he says, and he starts down the alleyway without waiting to see if I follow.

I don't know him, but I feel like I can trust him. So after a moment I do follow, fishing my backpack out of the dumpster before limping down the alleyway, every step painful, dodging the unconscious men scattered across the ground on my way.

I find Amar leaning against his truck near the entrance to the alleyway. "Five guys against one kid," he says, shaking his head. "And you took four of them out on your own. That was impressive. You got a place to stay?" I shake my head. Amar narrows his eyes at me. "How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen," I say.

Amar nods, and his face relaxes. "Okay, then. Come on, _Four_ , let's get you cleaned up. I know of a job you'd be good at."

And just like that, I have earned a new name.

Not Tobias, Marcus Eaton's weak son that he can push around.

I am someone who is ready to fight: _Four_.


	17. Ch 17: Going Through the Motions

**Chapter 17  
** _ **Going Through the Motions**_

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2014 | 4:45 PM | TRIS**

When it comes to my friendship with Uriah, the next two weeks can be summed up in one word: awkward. Gone are the easy banter and comfortable hugs, replaced with tense silences and a respectful distance that we had abandoned within the first week we met. We make small talk, and we hang out together with our friends, but we haven't even seen each other alone one single time outside of school.

Last weekend we went to the lake with all our friends to ride Kenny's family's jet skis. Madison, always trying to push us together these days, strategically made sure that I would ride with Uriah. But I felt weird holding on to him very tight when I am so confused about what happened the night of Jacob's funeral. My loose grip landed me in the lake, ten yards away from the jet ski.

The past week, things have gotten a little better; I feel like we are gradually moving past what happened that night and beginning to settle back into friendship. But we are still a long way off from the closeness we shared before that night.

Seeing so little of Uriah, being so distant from him, I have discovered that he was the only barrier to my grief. I still go on group outings as expected, but too many of my hours alone at home are spent curled up in a ball on my bed as if physically closing in on myself could shut out the waves of pain and loneliness. It doesn't, not at all, but that awareness doesn't stop me from trying. I did begin painting some again and found that it helped a little. I hadn't touched a paintbrush since before Tobias left.

Sometimes I feel like the house I live in is the only thing left of the life I had before that day that changed everything ― the day that my mom told me of her diagnosis, the day I discovered that Tobias had disappeared. Susan, Tess and Megan have called and texted me several times but I avoid them as much as possible, answering only often enough to keep them from coming over to check on me. One of these days soon I will have to make plans to see them, but I hope I can let those friendships fizzle out. They only remind me of a time that I would rather forget, because remembering only adds to my grief. They give me those same pitying glances that I so often see on the faces of my new friends when they look at Uriah.

My new friends still don't know about my mom, and I would like to keep it that way. That's why I have to drag myself out of the house nearly every day to go hang out with the gang. I do like them ― Gabe can always make me smile, and Madison has a boldness that I admire. Rita is quiet but has her funny sarcastic moments, and Jack and Kenny have been welcoming.

Today Madison and Rita have insisted that I go shopping with them. Shopping isn't really my thing, but there's a party tonight and Madison is adamant that I need a new dress to wear to it. I found a short black dress, simple but cute, in the second shop of the day and Rita found hers soon after, but Madison is being picky and is still searching two hours later. I don't feel that I need any more clothes, so I've been mostly browsing the shoes and jewelry in each shop that Madison drags us into.

Madison comes out of the dressing room practically jumping up and down in excitement. "Doesn't it look perfect?!" she squeals.

"Oh, that is absolutely gorgeous on you!" Rita gushes.

I smile. "It really does, Madison. I think that dress was _almost_ worth the twelve stores you insisted we shop at today."

Madison rolls her eyes at me. "Well, we can't all look amazing in the first dress we try on, Tris. Some of us need a little more help."

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. I don't know why she's always insisting that I'm pretty. I'm not ugly, but I am certainly not pretty, and I know it. So why pretend?

Madison pays for her dress and I buy a necklace I found and liked from the same store. We step back into the busy mall and continue walking the same direction we had been going when we entered the store earlier. "We all have our dresses for tonight," I say. "So, we can go home now, right?"

"Not yet," Madison grins. "One more store."

I groan. "Fine, one more."

I follow her lead, but when she stops to enter that one last store, my stomach drops. Victoria's Secret.

It isn't like I've never been in a lingerie shop before. In fact, I already have a few sets of lingerie. But Madison has been questioning me about the tension between me and Uriah all week, and I have been brushing her off. No doubt a shop like this will bring the subject up once again.

Sure enough, we haven't even been in the store for two minutes when Madison eyes the lacy bra-and-panties set I am considering. "That will look really sexy on you, Tris. Uriah will love it," she says with a wink.

"Uriah and I aren't together," I tell her for the five millionth time.

Madison rolls her eyes. "Please. You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife. Admit it: you guys finally fucked. It's so obvious."

I groan out loud and look to Rita for help. She holds up both hands as if surrendering. "Don't look at me. My sister may be a loudmouth, but she's right."

"Fine," I snap. "I slept with Uriah. But that isn't sexual tension you're feeling. It's just plain _tension_. Happy now?" It feels like the temperature in this store has gone up about twenty degrees.

"No, not really," Madison says. "Because you've been all weird around him ever since. Just get over it already and tell him you like him."

"I―"

"Don't try to deny it," she interrupts, rolling her eyes again, pointing a finger at me, like an accusation. "You two are perfect for each other."

I just look down and shake my head. I've got to get out of here. I glance out the door of the shop, and that's when I see it: a piercing parlor.

"Whatever," I say, rehanging the lingerie set that brought up this whole uncomfortable subject. I point across the wide aisle at the piercing parlor. "Come find me when you're done. I'll be in there."

"Ooh, what are you gonna get done?" Rita asks, sounding excited. "I've always wanted to get my nose pierced. Or my belly button."

I shrug as I adjust my purse strap on my shoulder. "Not sure yet. My lip, maybe."

"Don't you have to be 18?" Madison asks. Whether I get this done or not, at least I have managed to change the subject.

"Yeah," I answer, "but Uriah got me a fake ID. There was some club or something he wanted to go to." He had already paid for the fake ID cards before we slept together, but finally got them from the guy and gave mine to me last week. I wish I'd had it a little sooner so I could have avoided that awkward morning with Zeke.

I smile remembering the day he presented me with the small plastic phony driver's license. I'll have to remember to answer to the name _Sarah Jones_ when I use it. Uriah's fake name is _Rocco Peutersmith._ Every time I think of it, I am reminded of that first party, where I first tried out being Tris.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2014 | 10:15 PM**

The party is raging when we arrive in the car that Rita and Madison share. My patience is already wearing thin after two full hours of primping at Rita's hand; while Rita is the quiet sister, she is the one who loves hair and makeup. That's not my thing, and I usually keep my time spent primping to a minimum. While the whole experience was akin to torture, she did make me look amazing. I'm still me, so it's not like I'm beautiful or anything, but she did make me noticeable. I almost look like a different person.

We pay the $5 cover at the door and each take our red plastic cup straight to the keg on the back deck. I fill my cup and move off to the side, leaning against the railing as I begin to sip my beer.

"Oh, look!" Rita says. "There are the guys."

I follow her gaze and see Uriah, Jack and Kenny heading toward the keg. Uriah and I make eye contact and he gives me a half-smile, and I smile with closed lips in return. I wish things were back to normal with us. I could really use a friend these days, and he's the best one I've ever had. I miss him.

The three boys approach us and Kenny quickly asks Rita to dance. I've noticed the glances they've been exchanging. I don't know why Kenny doesn't just ask her out; it's obvious that they like each other.

"Where's Gabe?" I ask. Gabe is usually always with the other guys, but now I don't see him anywhere.

"Found some cute chick to dance with," Jack says.

Uriah's eyes are boring into me; I bite my lip and look away.

Madison looks between Uriah and me critically, then her face brightens. "Speaking of dancing," she chirps, "come on, Jack." She smirks at me and grabs Jack's hand before he has a chance to answer, then drags him away toward the door into the house, where the sound system is blaring some pop song with too much bass.

I continue leaning against the deck railing, slowly sipping my beer while Uriah drinks his more quickly. He seems to be studying me, then he stares at my lips. It's unnerving. "You got your lip pierced."

"Stellar observation skills, Uri. You should be a detective or something," I tease while smiling at him, and it feels normal… it feels good.

Uriah smiles back at me, then looks at my lips again. I'm sure it's just because of the piercing. "I like it. It suits you, _Tris_." He clears his throat and leans in closer to me so that he won't have to yell in order to be heard. "You wanna get out of here?"

My heart pumps harder and faster, and my stomach flips. Not a good kind of flip like when you're excited, but the anxious kind where you are full of dread. I don't know whether to get this conversation over with, or find some excuse to put it off for another day.

But I don't have to answer because we are interrupted by someone calling out my name ― my new name, Tris. I am relieved until I see who it is.

That guy I made out with at a party this summer, I think his name was Nate, stops right next to me. He stands a little closer than I would like and touches my arm. "Tris, hey," he says. He drags his eyes slowly down my body and lets out a low whistle. He has a charming smile on his face. My gut tells me it's a little _too_ charming.

"Hey, man. Good to see you again," Uriah says. He sounds friendly, but I can see how wary he is. If I didn't know him so well, I wouldn't see the way his smile is a little too stiff, his eyes too hard, the muscles in his arms standing out a little too much.

Nate nods at Uriah, then turns back to me. "You ran off so fast at that last party, I didn't get to ask for your number."

"Oh… right," I say. "Uh, actually―"

"Actually, we were in the middle of a conversation," Uriah says, his eyes intently focused on Nate and his smile still frozen on his face. "If you don't mind."

"I kinda do," Nate says. Just like Uriah, he sounds friendly, but in between speaking his jaw is clenched. "You know, since last time I saw Tris, _we_ were in the middle of something when _someone_ interrupted."

They're both still smiling the fake smiles, but with the intensity the two boys are staring at each other, I'm afraid they might start a brawl if I don't intervene. It seems that it's me they are fighting over, so it's up to me to prevent disaster.

"I'm sorry, Nate, but that night ― it didn't mean anything. And I'm not looking for a hookup right now," I say. "The two of you need to stop fighting over me like a couple of dogs marking their territory. What, are you going to piss on me next?" Nate finally drops the fake smile and openly glares at Uriah before turning and walking away and leaving Uriah and me alone. Uriah seems to have forgotten all about Nate and stares at me with his lips parted and eyes wide.

"I'm going to find the restroom," I inform Uriah before turning on my heel and walking away.

"Tris, wait up," Uriah calls after me.

I pause and glance back at him. "Just go find your friends, Uriah. I'll find you later. I really don't need your help in the bathroom."

Uriah chuckles, but I hear him sigh in frustration as I walk away.

I don't really _need_ to use the bathroom, but I do need a moment to myself, away from that situation, so I go there anyway. Once I am alone with the door shut and locked behind me, I stare at myself in the mirror, noting that my lip gloss needs a touch-up. But I don't bother with it yet. I just stare at my own face as if it will show me the answers I am looking for.

I have been so consumed and confused by my feelings about the way Tobias and I ended, I don't quite know what I feel for him now. Maybe it is just that he never really broke up with me.

I don't know what I feel for Tobias, I don't know what I feel for Uriah, I just don't know. I don't know if I can afford to love Uriah, or anyone for that matter. I don't know how I would survive if he left me one day.

Someone knocks at the door. This is not the time and place to explore these feelings.

"Just a minute," I call out. I dig through my purse for the lip gloss, but freeze when my fingers touch the wrapper of one of the tampons I stocked it with a few days ago.

Because that is when I realize… I haven't needed them yet.

I do the math again in my head, I even pull out my phone and check the app I use to track my cycle. Whoever is waiting outside pounds on the door again. "Give me a minute!" I snap. "I'm not quite done in here yet." And I'm not ― I am busy staring at the screen on my phone that says I should have started my period yesterday.

 _Oh shit._


	18. Ch 18: Count On Me

_**A/N:**_ _A couple things… first, the song referenced near the end of the chapter is_ Count On Me _by Bruno Mars._

 _The second thing… is that I think I'm going to have to slow down the updates on this story for a while. I've been updating Wednesdays and Saturdays but I think it'll just be Saturdays maybe for the rest of the summer. My son is autistic and we just started a new therapy program that I participate in with him 15 hours a week (in addition to the other therapies and stuff we do.) So, that's really cutting into my time to do everything else. So if I start going a week or more between updates, I'm not losing interest in the story or anything. It's just my real life getting in the way._

* * *

 **Chapter 18  
** _ **Count on Me**_

 **MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2014 | 7 PM | TRIS**

I'm now three days late, and my friends are noticing how distracted I have become. The possibility that I could be pregnant dominates my thoughts. I feel sick to think of how disappointed my mother would be. Of course she would be kind and supportive, unlike my father, but that would have almost made it feel even worse to let her down this way.

 _It doesn't matter,_ I tell myself. _She's gone. I can't disappoint her any more._

I am lying to myself. It does matter, it matters to _me._ More than anything I want to be someone that she would have been proud of. I don't feel like someone my mother would be proud of right now. I am not brave and bold Tris today. I'm scared, weak little Beatrice, too cowardly to drive down to the pharmacy and buy that little plastic stick that will give me the answers I need, or to even confront the wedge that that one single night has placed between me and Uriah.

I can't deal with that conversation until I know whether I'm pregnant. But I am too afraid to face finding out the truth.

I shake my head and try to focus my eyes on my history textbook. I have a test coming up on Thursday and have barely paid attention to the lectures, thanks to my wandering mind.

I have only made it through the first paragraph when the doorbell rings. I leave my textbook open on the desk and hop up from my chair, not minding the interruption. Anything to distract me. Studying certainly isn't cutting it. I jog down the hall and take the steps two at a time, then fling open the front door. Guess this wasn't much of a distraction ― the heaviness is back in the pit of my stomach.

"Uriah. Um… hey," I say, my hand gripping the doorframe. "What's up?"

He steps around me and into the house without waiting for an invitation, removes my hand from the doorframe, and pushes the door shut before looking me in the eye. "We need to talk, Tris."

I chew on my lip. "This isn't really a good time, Uriah. I'm studying for a test and I really need to―"

"What test?"

"History," I answer quietly.

Uriah shakes his head. "We're in the same history class, Tris. That test isn't till Thursday."

"I know, but―"

"Talk first, then study. We can quiz each other or whatever after. I'm not leaving until we've talked, Tris."

I can tell he means it. I am not getting out of it this time, no matter how badly I want to. "Fine. Let's go up to my room, in case my dad comes home."

"Has he been home more often?" Uriah asks while following me up to my room.

"Yeah, I mean, sort of," I shrug. "He hasn't been away on any trips for a couple of weeks, but he usually works late. I just...avoid him. I don't think he's even noticed the lip piercing yet."

"Wow. I'd never get that one past my mom." I shrug. I wish my dad was more like Hana, but he isn't, in so many more ways than just this. So avoiding him is for the best.

I sit cross-legged on my bed and Uriah sits beside me, his back against the wall and his feet out in front of him. "I want to know what you're thinking about that night, Tris."

Well, he just jumped right in, didn't he? And the thing is… I'm still confused. I've gone over and over this in my head and it always feels like I am thinking in circles. "I―" I try to start, but I don't know what was supposed to come after that first syllable, and I bury my face in my hands. "I think I need you to talk first, Uriah."

"Okay…" he says slowly. "I'm going just say it, then. I have feelings for you, Tris. I want you. I've regretted sleeping with you that night ever since I woke up the next morning, but that's _only_ because I feel like I lost you.." He scoots closer to me and hooks his index finger under my chin, lifting it so that I am staring right into his eyes. "But if that isn't what you want…then I'm okay with that. Because I can't lose our friendship, Tris. I couldn't stand that."

He slowly lowers his hand and leans against the wall again, nervously playing with his fingers as I process everything he just said.

Uriah likes me. And as much as I have denied it every time Madison brings the subject up, I have warred with myself these past few weeks, trying to sort out how I feel about him, too. But every time I think maybe I do, I get so scared… so scared of letting myself love someone.

"Uriah…" I say, and he immediately looks up at me. "I think I might like you, too. But I… I don't think I can be with you like that."

"But if you like me… why not? Why can't we…" He sighs. "Is this about Tobias? Are you still in love with him?"

I lean back against the headboard and my eyes search the ceiling as if the words I need will be written there. "I was in love with Tobias, yes," I say carefully. "But...this isn't really about him, Uriah."

"But at the bonfire that night…"

"I know. But I think… I think it's just, I didn't get a proper break-up. I didn't get any closure. One day he was there, and then he was just _gone._ This… this isn't really about him."

"Then what is it, Tris? Talk to me. Please. I can't stand you shutting me out like you have been."

"It's…" I feel the familiar pressure behind my eyes, the burning feeling of the tears I won't allow to escape. "I'm afraid to love you," I blurt out. "Everyone I truly love leaves me. Tobias… my mom." I pinch myself to push back the tears. I don't know why. Uriah has seen it all before.

Uriah's eyes soften, and he crawls over to me. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. "I get that. Dad is gone, Zeke moved away… I still have Mom, but I can understand how you would feel that way. But Tris, we've seen each other through the single worst days of our lives. We have seen the tears, the pain, all of it. We have gotten through it together. I'm not going anywhere, Tris. Whether we try this ― being together ― or we simply stay best friends, I promise you, I'll be there." Then I feel his smile where his cheek rests against my temple. "You won't get rid of me without a fight," he adds with a little chuckle.

"You promise?" I mumble into his neck.

"Cross my heart. I'd never lie to you Tris. Hell, it was a big risk telling you how I felt. But I have never kept secrets from you, and I'm not about to start now." He runs his fingers up and down my back lightly.

Secrets. Tobias kept secrets. He must have. There had to be a reason he left, but he didn't trust me enough to talk to me about it. But with Uriah, maybe things could be different, because _he_ is different. I've always known it. It's why I have trusted him from the start. I just wish that really giving my trust, putting my heart on the line, wasn't so terrifying.

But I am keeping a secret from Uriah, and it feels like poison turning my veins to lead. He doesn't keep secrets from me, but I haven't returned that trust. What kind of friend am I?

Suddenly the words spill from my mouth unbidden. "I might be pregnant."

Uriah's hand stills in an instant and where I am leaning against his chest, I feel his heart pound. "You…" His adam's apple bobs against my face as he swallows hard. "Pregnant?" he whispers.

 _Stupid._ How stupid am I, believing that I could count on him no matter what? For a moment I really did trust what he was saying to me. But now he's going to run. He's going to leave me to deal with this by myself.

I've already let the cat out of the bag, might as well see the conversation through. "I don't know for sure. I um… I took Plan B but it wasn't until a day and a half later and now… I'm late. And I'm fucking terrified, Uriah." I can't hold my tears back any more and they begin to stream down my face. He pulls back and wipes them away with his thumbs. "Still want to be there 'no matter what?'" I say, a little sarcasm evident in my tone.

"Tris…" he sighs. "Yes, I'm here no matter what. _Of course_ I am. You can count on it. Always."

"Really?" I croak.

"Really. I mean like…" He gets this impish grin on his face and sort of side-eyes me. "Like if you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea, I'll sail the world to find you."

Huh?

"If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see, I'll be the light to guide you."

Is he…

Then he breaks into song and I have to pinch myself to make sure I didn't dream myself into a damn musical.

" _Find out what we're made of  
When we are called to help our friends in need…" _he sings.

"Oh my god," I groan burying my face in my hands. "Are you going to seriously fucking serenade me?"

"Yep," he grins before he starts singing again.

" _You can count on me like one two three  
I'll be there  
And I know when I need it I can count on you like four three two  
You'll be there  
_' _Cause that's what friends are supposed to do oh yeah"_

As he sings I can't help the corners of my mouth twitching upward and I fight my smile. "Uriah, stop!" I say, but a giggle escapes. He totally ignores my command.

" _If you're tossin' and you're turnin' and you just can't fall asleep  
I'll sing a song  
Beside you"_

"Oh, will you, now." I'm not even trying to cover my laugh any more.

"Psh, I've done it before, haven't I? _  
And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me  
Every day I will  
Remind you  
Ooh"_

"You're crazy, Uriah."

"Crazy for you," he winks.  
" _Find out what we're made of  
When we are called to help our friends in need"_

Now he jumps off the bed and grabs my hand to pull me with him. I shake my head as he tries to twirl me. "C'mon, Tris, sing with me! You know this is totally, like, _our_ song."

I roll my eyes and huff but he gives me the puppy dog eyes ― he's really good at those puppy dog eyes ― and I reluctantly join in.

 _You can count on me like one two three  
I'll be there  
And I know when I need it I can count on you like four three two  
You'll be there  
_' _Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah  
Oh, oh  
Yeah, yeah_

 _You'll always have my shoulder when you cry  
I'll never let go  
Never say goodbye  
You know you can_

 _Count on me like one two three  
I'll be there  
And I know when I need it I can count on you like four three two  
And you'll be there  
_' _Cause that's what friends are supposed to do oh yeah  
Oh, oh  
You can count on me 'cause I can count on you_

"You're a dork," I giggle.

Uriah shrugs. "You love me. Admit it."

"Fine, fine. I love you."

Uriah grins. "That wasn't so hard, was it? I love you too, by the way." With his arm around my waist, he falls back onto my bed, dragging me with him. I let him, and I snuggle up to his chest. I've missed this so much. "So… what now? Have you taken a test?"

"No, I'm too chicken to go buy one." It's kind of embarrassing to admit.

"You? Chicken?" Uriah scoffs. "Well I think you'd better cut that shit out right now because you, Tris Prior, are no coward. So I think we had better go get a test."

That's when I realize that he's right. _Tris_ is no coward. I'm acting like Beatrice, the girl I promised myself I would leave behind. I can't hide behind my fear, I won't. Still… that test can wait a few more minutes.

"Later," I sigh. "I've missed this too much to move now."

"Mmm, me too. But there's something that would make this even better..."

I tilt my head up to see his face, and find him already looking at me. "What's that?"

His gaze travels down my face, from my eyes, over my nose and finally landing on my lips. "I would like to kiss you, Tris."

I hold my breath, and I know he's holding his, too. My mind races for a moment but fear no longer controls me, and Tobias doesn't deserve another moment of loyalty or even thought from me. Maybe all I need to do to forget about Tobias… is to open my heart enough to move on.

So I smile. "I'll allow it."

And we do.


	19. Ch 19: Three Minutes

_**A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and being so quick to understand about the slower updates. I know weekly is still pretty good, but I had gotten used to twice a week and hated to change it. I would stress about it if I hadn't given you all a heads up.**_

 _ **Took me the whole week to get this chapter to a point that I was willing to share it. It's not my favorite, but I hope you like it anyway!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 19** _ **  
Three Minutes**_

 **TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2014 | 3:45 PM | TRIS**

Lying on Uriah's bed, my eyes dart around the room. Taking in the same view I woke up to that morning that I realized what we had done ― the consequences of which I am still dealing with right now ― makes my heart pound. Uriah lies next to me on his side, head propped up with his elbow on the mattress, the other arm draped across my chest and his hand holding mine. He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand rhythmically but it is not enough to calm me in this moment.

"How much longer?" I ask, my voice tight.

Uriah lets go of my hand to grab his phone, which is laying beside me on the mattress. He turns on the screen and his eyes meet mine. "Thirty seconds," he says. "I swear, these are the longest three minutes of my life."

"Funny," I say, "I was just thinking they were the shortest."

Uriah shrugs. "Amazing that three minutes is all it takes to know if our lives are changing forever."

I just nod. Uriah's hand wraps around mine again and I hold on tight. As long as I have known Uriah, he has been the one to keep me grounded.

This wouldn't be the first time that just a few minutes have changed my life. Like the few minutes in which my mother told me she was sick. Or the few minutes it took me to walk into Tobias's house and discover his room stripped of everything that made it _his._

But this is different to either of those situations. This will determine whether Uriah and I will be responsible for an actual human being before we even begin our senior year of high school. A responsibility that we would carry with us for the rest of our entire lives.

The room has been so silent that the alarm on the timer makes me jump. Five quick beeps, followed by a short silence before the sound repeats. The sound feels like it is splitting through me as Uriah fumbles with his phone and finally turns it off, leaving us in silence again.

Uriah nudges me to get up but I lie there, limp. "You go look," I tell him. "I can't do it."

"Yes you can. Don't be a pansycake," Uriah says lightly. I glare at him and he rolls his eyes. "Tris, everything will be fine. You're probably not pregnant. Remember that stuff we read on the internet? The morning after pill could cause you to be late, or stress could do it…"

I nod. I know he's right; even without the emergency contraception I took in the mix to mess my hormones, the stress of this last month ― my mother's death and then Jacob's, both their funerals, the turmoil between Uriah and me these past weeks ― could certainly have affected my body.

"But… what if I am?"

For a long moment, Uriah's rich brown eyes peer deep into my pale blue ones. Then he stands up, reaches a hand out and pulls me up to stand next to him with a confidence that makes it instinct to let him, rather than fight him on it. Once I am standing, he doesn't let go of my hand, but he raises his other hand gently to my cheek and softly strokes my skin with his thumb.

"I don't know, Tris. But I promise you, we will figure it out together. You can count on me." He grins at me and adds, "Like one-two-three."

I can't help smiling, just a little. Uriah's reassurance has calmed me just enough for that, and just enough to take a deep breath, preparing to face the verdict that will now show on that little white strip of plastic that waits on the bathroom counter.

Uriah doesn't let go of my hand on the short walk across the hall, and he still doesn't let go once we are in the bathroom. I pick up the test with the tips of two fingers, not really wanting to touch something I peed on five minutes ago, and Uriah picks up the box.

"One line," I state, staring at the lone strip of pink dye in the window. "One line… that is good, right? Please tell me that's good." I squeeze my eyes shut as Uriah reads the back of the box.

"One line means negative," he says. "No crazy little daredevils in our foreseeable future."

I feel my whole body relax in relief, and I sag onto his chest. "I'm not pregnant," I breathe as Uriah's arms wrap around me. "Thank god." I pull back and look up at him.

"Thank you," I say, and I stand on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around the back of his neck and kiss his cheek.

Then he releases me and steps back with a grin. "We need to celebrate."

I wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper and bury it in the bottom of the trash can. "What did you have in mind?" I ask as I begin to wash my hands.

"Well, I got you a little present to celebrate not being pregnant," he says as I follow him into the garage.

"You didn't know I wouldn't be pregnant."

"I had faith," he says, handing me a big box. "Plus, I had something else ready for bad news, just in case."

I laugh and shake the large cardboard box. Something clunks around inside. Uriah didn't bother to actually wrap it in paper, just taped it shut put a foil Christmas bow on top. He used too much tape when he sealed the box, so I end up ripping the cardboard open, suddenly feeling more eager than a kid on Christmas because I know it is going to be something fun. It has to be, coming from Uriah.

I grin from ear to ear as I pull out the skateboard. It's a little beat up, but I think it looks cool that way.

"A kid down the block sold it to me," he explains. A while ago, Uriah promised to teach me to snowboard this winter, and he mentioned that skateboarding was good off-season practice. I've played around with neighborhood kids' boards a few times growing up, but never did have my own.

"Thank you!" I squeal as I throw my arms around him. "I've always wanted a skateboard! You're gonna teach me, right?"

"Yep," Uriah answers. "That was kinda the point ― give you a reason to keep hanging around with me."

I smack his shoulder. "As if you'd need to bribe me." Uriah grins and shrugs. "So what was the consolation prize?" I ask, remembering he said there was a back-up gift.

Uriah holds up a finger to tell me to wait a moment, and runs back into the house. He comes back out with small shopping bag and pulls a thin plastic box from it. "I'm keeping this one," he says, handing me the PS4 game ― Tony Hawk Pro Skater 5. "I'll still let you play it with me, though."

"Well, aren't you generous?" I tease.

"Yep," Uriah grins. "Ready to try out that board? There's a skate park down the street." He reaches into the bottom of the box and pulls out a black helmet I hadn't noticed, and I happily accept.

"Definitely."

Uriah grabs his board and helmet in one hand and takes my free hand with the other, and leads me out the side door of the garage.

I'm so glad that for what feels like the first time in a long while, my luck seems to be turning. This is the life I want, fun and carefree.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2014 | 11:55 PM | TRIS**

Uriah and I have been dancing all night. The fake ID cards he got for us worked like a charm, so we've been drinking all night, too. All the makeup I have on might have helped us pass for 21.

Uriah glances at me once again as we wait at the edge of the crowd to get to the bar.

"What?" I finally ask. "You keep staring at me. Is the makeup too much?"

Scooting forward with the crowd, I trip over my own unsteady feet. Uriah catches me and laughs. "You look amazing, Tris. Perfect. I'm just looking at your hair." He reaches out and runs a strand of magenta between his fingers. "I really like it. What are you gonna do to it once I get used to the new color?" he teases.

"Hmm, I haven't decided yet," I say, smoothing my blonde-and-magenta curls back into place. I don't know why I keep making more changes to my appearance, I just do. The more different I look on the outside, the easier it is to feel like someone else, someone who isn't lost and grieving. We take another step toward the bar. "But you're right ― I definitely need to find another drastic change, keep you on your toes."

I spent the afternoon with Madison and Rita, getting ready to go clubbing with Uriah tonight. Madison insisted upon helping me get ready for Uriah's and my first _real_ date together. First Rita dyed my hair with magenta streaks, and after I was dressed she piled on the makeup. I have to admit, it does make me look older.

Somehow I managed to talk my way out of shopping, but Madison insisted I wear my tightest, shortest black dress and four-inch heels. Underneath it all, I am wearing a sexy, black lace bra and thong.

I was annoyed at first that Madison made me wear my skimpiest lingerie. I had already told her that Uriah and I haven't done anything but a few kisses since we officially got together almost a week ago. I guess she's trying to change that. I'm in no rush, and Uriah hasn't attempted anything, either. But as the night went on and we dance and drink, then dance and drink some more, I'm starting to think in a few hours I might be glad that she made me wear it.

Another step forward, and we're at the bar. That felt like it took forever, I'd do a victory dance right here if I wasn't pretty sure I'd fall over. The last drink I had was a Long Island Iced Tea and it was really yummy. The drinks here are so much better than the cheap liquor and kool-aid we usually drink.

"What do you want, Trissy?" Uriah asks me as I hand over my ID. The bartender looks up and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Long Island―"

"Sorry, guys," the bartender says. "I can't serve you." He glances over his shoulder at an older guy with cropped salt-and-pepper hair, who is helping someone at the other side of the bar. When he sees the man is occupied, he hands the ID cards back to us. "I should take these fake driver's licences too, but I'm gonna let you keep them. Just get out of here, and don't tell anyone." He's looking me up and down in a way that creeps me out and I step closer to Uriah.

"Okay. Thanks, man," Uriah says. Like me, I think he's a little disappointed that we have to leave so early, but at least we got to enjoy a few hours of fun before we were busted. Uriah must notice the way the bartender looks at me, too, and his arm snakes its way around me. As he guides me away from the bar, the bartender winks at me.

But I forget about creepy bartender guy as soon as Uriah and I are out in the cool night air. He stays close, right up against me, his arm still wrapped around my waist. The lights and all the activity that is a Saturday night in Downtown Chicago makes me feel alive and gives me a new burst of energy. It's like my nerves are humming.

Uriah grins at me and suddenly ducks down and lifts me with his other hand under my knees. I am so surprised I scream ― not a frightened scream, but a happy one. It feels really good, being happy again.

Uriah walks a few more steps away from the door to the club and moves to one side of the sidewalk, so we are next to the wall of the brick building. I wrap my arms around his neck as he brings his lips to mine. We kiss for a few minutes there outside the club. I feel a little of that nervous-excited, heightened feeling that I haven't felt in months _._

I look up and notice a man in a nice suit escorting some woman into the ritzy club across the street. She is in an expensive dress over her perfect body. Something makes me stare at that man. I don't know why until he looks over his shoulder and I see who it is: Marcus Eaton.

My breath hitches. Marcus never knew about my relationship with his son, but he is a friend of my father's. Uriah is still holding me bridal style so I duck behind his shoulder as much as possible while still carefully watching Marcus. _Please don't let him see me…_

Marcus turns away, and he disappears into the club. I didn't see any recognition on his face; I saw him, but I don't think he saw me.

"Everything okay?" Uriah asks.

"Everything's great," I smile. Uriah smiles back and carries me to the El for our journey home.


	20. Ch 20: Fighter

_A/N: How about an extra chapter today? I kind of wrote them out of order, so this one's done, and it's my birthday today so… why not?_

* * *

 **Chapter 20  
** _ **Fighter**_

 **SATURDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2014 | 10:45 PM | FOUR**

The abandoned warehouse is in a rundown, industrial area, a nearly abandoned part of town, hard-hit by the recession. The building shows no sign of life from the outside, but inside is a hive of activity. Rough, sweaty men jeer and yell, cheering on the fighters they have bet on. The floor is so grimy that you can feel the filth even under your shoes as you walk, and rust-colored splatters of old, dried blood decorate the floors and walls. The odors of sweat, liquor and cigarette smoke are overwhelming but underneath it all I can still detect the smell of vomit.

The ref holds Amar's arm in the air announcing his victory and I cheer along with the crowd. I never watch the other fights ― just Amar's, and whatever fight is right before mine. It's important to watch sometimes so that I know my competition, but I don't want to be any more involved with the people at this place than I have to ― with these people who see two men beating each other to a pulp as entertainment, even something to profit from.

I'm not like them and neither is Amar. But it's how we're getting by. It's dangerous, but Amar and I both are good at what we do.

That night after I was jumped in the alley, Amar took me back to his place. He cleaned me up gave me a place to stay and the opportunity to make money the same way he does: in an underground fighting league. Most of the time it's pretty easy money. The fights happen usually about twice a week, and on the off days, Amar and I train together. He has become sort of like a big brother, or a mentor, to me.

Amar had been living alone before he took me in. I'll have to find my own place eventually, when Amar's boyfriend comes back in a few months. It's not like Amar and George would just kick me out, but they'll want their privacy sooner than later. A few weeks before I met Amar, George had gone to help his sister at her tattoo parlor in Oregon. She and her husband had always run the place together, but Bud was injured in a car accident and Tori needs George's help until Bud recovers.

As the next fighters make their way to the ring, Amar passes me with a bruise forming on his ribcage and a split lip. He playfully punches me in the shoulder. "Do good out there tonight, kid," he tells me. "Stay focused. I'll try to be back in time to see your match." I nod at him, bouncing on my toes and shaking out my arms to keep warmed up, and Amar jogs back toward the showers.

The next fighters step onto the mat: a guy who goes by Blade, and his opponent, Max.

Blade is my height, but he must have seventy pounds of muscle on me. While my body is strong but compact, Blade's biceps and pecs are so large I wonder how he stays upright. He's strong, there's no doubt about that, but his bulk makes him slow. I fought him a week ago, and beat him. I can see the fear in his eyes as he watches his opponent.

Max is a man a few inches shorter than me with defined muscles which are larger than mine but smaller than Blade's. He has dark skin and a few gold teeth that must have replaced his real ones after they were knocked out in the ring. Max is older than most of the contestants, but he is the most feared fighter in the league. I haven't fought him yet. I'm sure one day I will be against him in the lineup, but I can only hope that day is not any time soon. He has a reputation for being ruthless, even outright bloodthirsty. I heard that he broke a guy so badly a few months ago, that most of his body was in casts and he still can't come back to fight in the League.

I keep moving while I watch, keeping my muscles warm and loose. Blade is bigger than Max, but Max is faster, smarter, and more confident. He never hesitates.

I alternate between watching the fight and checking out my opponent for tonight. I haven't seen him before so he's probably new ― but I've only been fighting here for a few weeks so I don't really know. He's quite a bit shorter than I am but built like a tank. I watch the way he nervously shifts from one foot to the other and I stare him down whenever I catch his eye. Intimidation is a part of the job.

It takes less than ten minutes before Blade falls to a heap on the floor and doesn't get up. But Max still doesn't stop ― he keeps kicking, again and again, at the lifeless Blade's blood-smeared skull and ribs until the ref finally pulls him off and declares Max the winner.

And now it's my turn. I take off my shoes and shirt and step into the ring from one side, and the guy I've been staring down shuffles in on the other. I wanted to always fight with my shirt on even though no one else does, but Amar insisted that the scars littering my back would only work to my advantage, make me look more "badass."

I look my adversary up and down with a cold, hard stare one more time, my arms crossed over my chest while he bounces on his feet like a skittish little terrier. The announcer's voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Next up we have two rookies: give it up for the undefeated, 'Four!'" I raise my fist and the crowd erupts into cheers and yells. "And his challenger, in his debut match we have… 'Razor Ray!'" The crowd gives a half-hearted applause and a few whoops. I'm quickly making a name for myself here, but this guy is completely new and unknown.

We circle for about half a minute, and I hear the crowd getting restless. Without any hint of a warning I swiftly jab at Razor's throat, and when he raises his fists higher in reaction to the blow I knee him in the gut. I try to kick his legs out from under him next but he has recovered faster than I expected and quickly sidesteps, grabbing my leg. I land with my back on the mat, then quickly roll, his heel narrowly missing my face.

I scramble to my feet; this guy is quicker and tougher than I had anticipated. We trade kicks and punches back and forth for a good ten minutes. I feel the bruises forming on my ribcage, the blood gushing from my nose, but I don't give up. I've been through much worse.

Razor Ray, however, does not seem to have the endurance that I have spent so many years developing. His chest heaves with exertion and his punches become sloppy, and his arms sag. This is my chance: with several well-timed hits to his neck, midsection and jaw in close succession, followed by a quick sweep-kick of his legs, he's down. One more blow to the temple and he's out.

"Still undefeated, FOUR!" the announcer bellows and the ref holds my fist in the air. The crowd is going wild. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I do relish the nod of approval I see Amar give me from the sidelines.

Amar walks back to the dilapidated locker room with me. Usually the loser from the previous fight would be in here nursing their wounds, but I don't see Max's latest victim anywhere.

"Have you heard anything about Blade?" I ask, remembering the man crumpled on the mat, looking more like a bloody hunk of raw meat before he was dragged away.

Amar shakes his head. "I saw them dragging him out. I don't think he'll be back anytime soon." I know what that means: Amar believes that Blade's injuries are extensive.

I shake my head, disgusted at the man that most in this building would see as a hero. I fight to get by, but I don't kick a man when he's already down.

I think back to how Razor Ray took me by surprise near the beginning of my fight today. He's far less menacing than Max or any number of other fighters in this league, but he could have done some real damage if I hadn't rolled out of the way quick enough for his heel to miss my skull.

The reality is… I am putting my life in danger every time I step into the ring. That's okay, because what do I even have in this life? I've given up everything that ever mattered to me in order to escape my father's belt and his manipulation.

I think of Beatrice. I've been thinking about her even more than usual lately; our two-year anniversary would have been a week ago, and her seventeenth birthday is coming up next week. I wish I could be there to celebrate with her. There are so many things that I left unsaid.

I zip my bag, ready to collect my payout, as a bloodied, incoherent man is dragged into the locker room. I shake my head. The man's friend shines a light in his eyes and I notice his enlarged pupils, the vacant look in his eyes; I hear him speak, the words too slurred to make out.

This is a dangerous life. I know I should leave her alone, but I just can't. I have to speak to her.

I've made up my mind, I have to fix this… I have to at least try.

Tomorrow, I will call Beatrice.


	21. Ch 21: Shmoopy

_**Author's Note:**_

 _ **Okay… this took me forever, I know. Life's been weird and crazy and I've had a terrible case of writer's block. I can't say that I'm entirely over that, but I did manage to finish this chapter finally. Thought about posting an author's note to let you know, but I hate it when I get a notification that there's a new chapter and then open it to find out that it's actually NOT a chapter, so I didn't want to do that to you.**_

 _ **Anyway… here it is. I really have no idea how soon you should expect the next update, but even if it takes me a month, the update WILL come, I haven't given up on the story or anything like that!**_

 _ **I don't own Divergent, and I don't own Seinfeld either.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 21  
** _ **Shmoopy**_

 **SUNDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2014 | 11:25 AM | TRIS**

I park my car in its usual spot at the curb in front of Uriah's house. When we first started hanging out, sometimes that spot would be taken, but now that section of the road always seems to be left open, as if the neighbors understand that my car belongs there.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and grab my skateboard and helmet from the backseat before locking my car, then trot up the stone path in the front yard, on the right side near the driveway, smiling at the Father's Day stepping stones each time my foot touches one. Zeke and Uriah had made them for Jacob in 2001 and 2005, according to the markings someone had finger drawn along the perimeter of the concrete circle before the cement dried. Each one is decorated with colored glass beads that Zeke and Uri probably thought were precious gems when they placed them into the stones. The mental image of a three-year-old Uriah making this gift for his dad makes my smile widen; I picture him choosing where to place each of his precious gems around his chubby little handprint, just the tip of his tongue peeking out the left side of his closed lips like it often does when he's concentrating, before turning around and throwing wet cement at Zeke.

Uriah's house is modest, your typical 1950s-built, one story, three-bedroom home with a basketball hoop fixed above the garage door ― comfortable and lived-in. I run my hand over the top of the hedges that I trimmed last weekend when I helped Uriah catch up on the yard work. We had plans to go surfing in the lake with our friends before the weather gets too cold, and Hana had insisted that Uriah finish his chores before he could go. She was working that day so we probably could have gone surfing first and done the yard work later, and Hana would have been none the wiser. But Hana's cool and we respect her, so we worked together and got it done in just an hour and a half that morning.

When I reach the front door, I let myself in; Uriah always unlocks the door when he's expecting me, and the Pedrads mean it when they tell you to "make yourself at home." I always text Uri to let him know I've arrived before I get out of the car, and today he had immediately replied letting me know he's in the TV room. Probably playing that Tony Hawk game he kept when he gave me my skateboard.

When I walk into the TV room, I hear canned laughter instead of the game's soundtrack. I sit down with Uriah on the couch and cuddle into his side, and he wraps both arms around me and squeezes a little tighter than normal but doesn't say anything, and when I see that he is watching Seinfeld, I understand why.

 _GEORGE: $2? But everyone in front of me got free bread._

 _SOUP NAZI: You want bread?_

 _GEORGE: Yes, please._

 _SOUP NAZI: $3!_

 _GEORGE: What?_

 _SOUP NAZI: No soup for you! [snaps fingers]_

Seinfeld was Jacob's favorite TV show. He owned the complete DVD collection, the cover of the boxed set was even signed by Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David ― a 40th birthday gift from Hana. Jacob even told me about how he had to miss the series finale because it aired May 14, 1998 ― the night Uriah was born.

I squeeze Uriah's arm. "This is a great episode," I comment. "One of my favorites." I snap my fingers and imitate the actor from the show, "No soup for you!"

Uriah nods. "It was Dad's favorite, too." His voice sounds gravelly and his eyes glisten in the blue light from the television.

I do my best to keep my voice light. "Well, your dad had good taste."

"He did," Uriah smiles. "Speaking of Dad's good taste, he sure liked you."

I squeal as his hand suddenly darts to tickle my side. For a minute it turns into a sort of wrestling match, then he finally stops torturing me. I sit up and catch my breath. "My mom liked you, too," I tell him.

Uriah smiles that same small smile he greeted me with the first time we passed in the hospital hallway and pulls me against him as he settles comfortably back into the couch to continue watching the show.

 _GEORGE: Well, I gotta go back there and try again. Hi Sheila._

 _SHEILA: Hi. Hi shmoopy._

 _JERRY: Hi shmoopy._

 _SHEILA: No, you're a shmoopy!_

 _JERRY: You're a shmoopy!_

I remember something and twist so my head is in Uriah's lap so I can look up at him. "So, where are you taking me today?" I ask. Uriah only told me to bring my fake ID.

"I told you, it's a surprise," Uriah says.

I pout out my lip and babytalk, "Pwease, shmoopy?"

It doesn't work. He just argues back, "No, you're a shmoopy!" Then we have an argument over which of us is a "shmoopy," Jerry and Sheila style, which turns into another bout of tickle-torture. I manage to get his ticklish spot behind his knee a few times too though. The show ends and I pull him up, anxious to see what he has planned for today. I'm sure whatever it is, I will have fun. I always have fun with Uriah.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2014 | 6:45 PM | TRIS**

Uriah and I spent the afternoon test driving motorcycles; we needed the fake driver's licenses because they don't let minors test drive the vehicles. I've been eyeing motorcycles for a while, I've even asked my dad for one for my birthday. He swiftly and firmly said no, of course. Now that I've ridden on one ― several, actually ― I am determined to save up to buy myself a motorcycle after I turn eighteen. When I'm a legal adult, Dad won't be able to stop me from buying the vehicle I want. I should ask for more shifts at the pizza parlor to start saving up faster ― Dad pays for most things, like whatever clothes or books, music and movies I want, my car insurance and gas, haircuts… when I turned 16 last fall, he and Mom even let me have Mom's old car instead of trading it in. But I know he won't pay a dime for the motorcycle, and it wouldn't be right to sneak away bits of money that he gives me and deceive him about where it came from.

After test driving the bikes, we spent a couple hours at the skatepark, like we have most afternoons in the past few weeks. I'm learning quickly and I can hardly wait to go snowboarding this winter.

Uriah has gone to pick up the Chinese food we ordered, and I wait in the treehouse, sipping on a weak mixture of rum and Coke. It's a school night, but we've had such a fun day, it just seems fitting to have a couple drinks together. My dad is out of town right now, he won't know if I spend the night over here. I have a change of clothes in Uriah's room and my school backpack in my car, just in case.

The ring of my phone startles me and I furrow my eyebrows as I search for it in my purse. I know it isn't Uriah, his ringtone is _Count On Me_ (and his phone is set up the same for when I call.) I also have a specific ringtone set up for any of my new friends from school, and another for my dad and Caleb. This is just the generic, stock tone that came pre-programmed in the phone, and I don't hear it often.

I finally find the phone after a few seconds. It's an unknown number with a strange area code that I don't recall ever seeing before. I don't have time to contemplate that, though, because soon it will go to voicemail, so I quickly swipe to answer the call.

"Hello?" I say warily.

"Beatrice." I freeze at the sound of his voice ― I think my heart might actually have stopped for a moment. I know for sure I stopped breathing.

"Tobias?" I cringe hearing myself. I sound so soft, so hopeful, so quiet. Of course I do, I never thought I would hear from him again and suddenly he's calling me, completely out of the blue. I push back the entirely unwelcome tears that quickly fill my eyes.

"Yeah, baby. It's me." It's the word 'baby' that brings all my hurt and anger back at hurricane force. I sit straight up from the beanbag chair and gulp down the rest of my drink. Really wish I had gone a lot heavier on the rum. "Beatrice, I miss you so much. I'm so sorry, I―"

I laugh at him, right into the phone, interrupting him. It's a humorless laugh, more like a cackle. "You're _sorry_?" I hiss, and my voice sounds nothing like it did a moment ago. The softness, the hope, it's all gone now and replaced with someone that doesn't even sound like me. "You think you can just call me up and ― and ― what do you even _want,_ Tobias?!"

"To talk to you… to hear your voice."

"Well, you've heard it," I say sarcastically. "What else?"

"I don't know, Beatrice, I just… I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going away. I knew I should but I just couldn't. I had to leave, Bea, I just had to and I couldn't ask you…"

I close my eyes, clenching the lids shut tight ― tense and tight, just like every other muscle in my body. My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear my own pulse. "Tobias…"

"I love you, Beatrice." His voice cracks, he is almost pleading but I don't know what for. Nor do I care. Because every word fans the flames inside me, fueling the blaze ― building it larger, stoking it hotter.

"I still don't know what you want from me," I snap. "You can't just _do this,_ Tobias. You can't just disappear, then right when I'm fine without you, right when I am moving on, you call me up and tell me you love me?! _You abandoned me_ , Tobias! So just tell me what the hell you want already."

There's a long pause, I don't even know why I'm still listening. I'm about to tell him that his time is up and hang up the phone on him when he finally speaks again. "I don't know what I want, Beatrice. I just know I miss you. I guess…I guess I was hoping we could be...friends?"

My jaw drops. He has to be joking. Friendship requires trust, and he can't possibly think that I could trust him after he vanished like he did, despite all our history. I know there is a part of me that misses him too, but it's buried too deep, too tainted with resentment.

"Beatrice?" he prods.

"Tobias." I take a deep breath and say slowly, in a low voice, "I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. I don't even want to _think_ of you. No, Tobias. We cannot be friends."

I need to end this. Now. Uriah could be back any minute. I'm not trying to keep this conversation a secret from Uriah, but that doesn't mean that he needs to witness it. There is nothing more to say to Tobias anyway.

 _Just hang up, Tris. Press the button._ But I can't just leave it like that… I can't leave those as the last words I say to Tobias. That part of me that still cares for him is pushing its way through the muck and will not be ignored.

So I quietly add, "Goodbye, Tobias. Stay safe." Then before I can be tempted to listen for a response, I end the call.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2014 | 6:55 PM | URIAH**

I've just had the best day with Tris. We went to a dealership and test drove the motorcycles which was so much fun. I loved how her eyes lit up and she just looked so happy and exhilarated and _alive_ on that bike. I'm going to have to keep my eyes open for a killer deal on one ― maybe I can fix one up for her.

Tris has been waiting for me in the treehouse while I pick up take out from our favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner. I just want to enjoy an evening with my girl, my best friend, my comrade.

I pause at the bottom of the ladder and resituate the food in my hands so that I can climb without dumping it out of the bag or something equally stupid. That's when I hear her. She's talking to someone, I can't hear what she's saying, but she sounds upset. I stay with my feet on the ground, debating whether to go ahead up the ladder or wait, when her voice gets louder and I clearly hear, "You can't just _do this,_ Tobias. You can't just disappear, then right when I'm fine without you, right when I am moving on, you call me up and tell me you love me?! _You abandoned me_ , Tobias! So just tell me what the hell you want already."

 _Tobias._ That word changes everything, turns my world sideways. I don't know if her voice gets quieter after that, or if I just can't hear her because my pulse is so loud in my ears.

 _What does he want? Why is he calling her?_ Maybe he needed information about someone here in Chicago. Maybe he just wanted to see if she was okay. But the way my stomach flips, I know I don't believe that's all it is. My mouth goes dry.

 _What if he has come back?_

 _Breathe, Uriah._ The guy disappeared without a word to anyone, he cut every form of contact available, he even closed his email account. He obviously doesn't want to be found. _He wouldn't come back after all that._ Would he?

 _Chill out, Uri._ _You need to calm the fuck down, go up there, and let her tell you herself._ I know I can guess all I want, I can come up with every possibility there is, but the only way to find out is to ask Tris. I put my hands on the sides of the ladder and start climbing.

 _She_ will _tell me...won't she?_ I guess won't know if I don't give her the chance.

I climb into the treehouse and see Tris sitting in her bean bag on the other side of the treehouse. She looks deep in thought. _Yeah, thinking about her ex… the guy she was in love with. Her first everything._

"Hey," I say. She just about jumps out of her skin. She was so lost in her own world, thinking about _him_ , that she didn't hear or even see me coming up. _Maybe I'll have to get used to that._ God, I hope he hasn't come back. I couldn't bear to lose Tris. She understands me in ways that no one else does. Even Zeke.

We are unusually quiet as we sort out the food, and I pour myself a rum and coke, heavy on the rum. We eat in silence, which is more common… but usually it's only if we're both just too hungry to do anything but scarf it down. This time, the lemon chicken ― my favorite ― is like rubber in my mouth, and I see Tris picking at her fried rice. Without conversation to keep me distracted, my mind races.

 _Why isn't she telling me anything? Doesn't she trust me? Is he back, is she trying to decide how to break it to me? Fuck! Is she going to_ break up _with me?! I know she said she wasn't still in love with him but what if that's just what she has been telling herself to make things easier?_ He was her first kiss, first boyfriend, first love, her first everything… she was devastated and broken when he left her.

I'm not naive enough to really believe that she's totally over him, and I'm afraid that he will always be her first choice. That's been okay so far, because she wouldn't know where to find him if she tried.

Even if he hasn't come back, she probably knows where he is now. Maybe he asked her to run away and be with him. Is that what she's thinking about? Deciding whether to do it? Now that her mom is gone there's nothing holding her here. Only me. And if it came down to me or him, I'm not so sure I'm the one that she would choose.

Tris pours a couple inches of rum into her plastic cup and downs it in one gulp. When she sets the cup down, I see the tears in her eyes and my heart clenches. It reminds me that my insecurities aren't the most important thing right now, because he really hurt her, and she's still healing from it. Hearing from him had to be like ripping those wounds back open.

Tris and I stare at each other for a minute. The first tear is falling down her cheek when she says, "Tobias called."

Even though I already knew she had talked to him, I tense up. The jealous boyfriend part of me wants to demand that she tell me the whole conversation word-for-word, but seeing another tear sliding down her other cheek reminds me to push all that aside. "Are you okay?" I ask.

Tris worries her lip and shrugs, and her eyes wander the room without focusing, but always careful not to meet mine. She's trying so hard to keep it together, I can't make this about how I feel about it. Tris comes first.

I grab the rum and pour some in each of our cups. "So… what did he want?"

"Uh," she stammers, and after throwing back my shot of rum I set aside the cup and take her hands in mine, and rub my thumbs across the top of her hands to comfort her, to remind her that I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. "He said that he, uh, that he misses me… that he's sorry… and that he loves me." She scoffs out a laugh. "He wanted to be _friends._ I told him that wasn't going to happen and to leave me alone."

I nod slowly, trying to figure out what to say as I let a mixture of emotions run over me. Relief that she told me and I didn't have to drag it out of her, and that he hasn't come back. Anger at Tobias for dragging all this back up for Tris when I think she was really starting to get past it all, not thinking of him so much any more. Anxiety at knowing that he told her he still loves her, fear that one day he really will come back and try to steal her away from me. I can't let that happen.

I must be lost in thought longer than I realized because it is Tris's hand on my cheek that pulls me back to what is right in front of me: my beautiful girlfriend. "You okay, Shmoopy?" she teases with a grin.

I can't help immediately smiling back. "No, you're a Schmoopy," I retort, reaching out to tickle her.

Tris giggles as she twists away from me and for now, the call with Tobias is forgotten and it's just me and Tris, having fun together, like it should be.


	22. Ch 22: Family Trouble

_A/N: Wow, 2 months. I certainly didn't intend this to take me so long, but this chapter gave me fits. I scrapped the whole thing and started over eight times. Life gets in the way quite a bit, too. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed, and thanks so much for your patience!_

* * *

 **Chapter 22  
** _ **Family Trouble**_

 **SATURDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2014 | 9:35 AM | TRIS**

I miss Mom every day, all the time; she is never far from my mind. But it had been getting easier, the pain a bit duller. I always knew the holidays would rub salt in the wounds, but it has still surprised me just how much it hurts, not having her here. It's as though I had blocked the memory of how intense my grief was in those first few days and weeks, because I still didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much.

My first hint of that resurgence in grief came more than two months ago, when I celebrated my seventeenth birthday without the people who had been most important to me. Of course that piercing pain in my heart began as soon as my mother wasn't there to sing the birthday song when waking me up for the day. But I was not prepared for the memories of Tobias presenting me with that bracelet, and I barely resisted the itch to pull it out of that box that is tucked safely in the corner of a high shelf in my closet. The memory of that time with Tobias also brought on a wave of guilt for spending so little time on my last birthday ― the last she would have to spend with me ― with Mom.

But Uriah kept me busy, distracted me. We forged notes excusing us from school and spent the day at Six Flags, riding the biggest rollercoasters there until our throats were raw from screaming and greasy amusement park food threatened to make a reappearance. He also somehow convinced Dad to get me a season ticket to the ski lift at the nearest winter resort as a birthday gift, something Uriah and I have taken advantage of every weekend and at least half of our winter break. Uriah says I'm a natural, he's impressed at how quickly I've picked the skill up.

It's what we do: save each other from being swallowed by grief. And I'm sure that's the only way either of us have managed to survive the holidays. I gratefully accepted a shift delivering pizzas on Christmas Eve ― kept me busy and the tips were fantastic, and Christmas morning with Dad and Caleb was painful and awkward.

It was a relief to spend the later part of the day with the Pedrads. Zeke couldn't make the trip out for the holiday as he just got rid of that awful roommate and hasn't yet found anyone new to share the apartment and the monthly rent. But he did call and talk with each of us for a while, even me. We have texted a couple of times since we met in September, but that was the first time we've ever actually had a phone conversation.

I wish Zeke didn't live so far away. I know Uriah misses him dearly. He and Uriah text nearly every day and talk a couple times a week, and I can't help being slightly jealous of how close they are. Caleb and I didn't speak in the entire three-and-a-half months he was away, not even a phone call on my birthday. Though he did send an afterthought of a text when he finally remembered three days late. It's been tense between us, and in the week he has been home, Caleb and I haven't had a conversation that could be considered anything more than surface-level small talk.

Until now, that is.

Caleb and I are sitting at the kitchen table together eating a big breakfast of waffles, eggs and bacon. The only thing on my mind Uriah's and my plans for the day. Caleb asked to borrow my car, so I'm waiting for Uriah to come pick me up; we're meeting up with our friends to go paintballing. I'm hardly listening as Caleb babbles on about the dinner out with Dad and that Jeanine Matthews woman Caleb worked for over the summer… the one who was too familiar with my dad at the funeral. The woman I suspect that Dad is with when he sometimes stays out overnight on the weekends he is home. I don't know anything more about their history and haven't asked, but I know that something is there. I don't like to think about it. All I really know about her is that she is some bigwig at a pharmaceutical company and Caleb worships the ground she walks on.

"Dr. Matthews is so brilliant," Caleb gushes. "Can you believe she offered me a job as her personal lab assistant next summer?"

"Wow, that's just amazing," I respond with a flatness to my voice that Caleb doesn't seem to notice. Typical Caleb.

He nods enthusiastically. "You really should have come, Beatrice."

"I was working," I say. Again. "And it's Tris. Don't call me Beatrice."

"I don't see why you need to work so many hours when Dad pays for everything you need," Caleb says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saving up. Besides, you worked plenty last summer," I remind him.

"That's different. I had an internship. You're delivering pizzas." _Condescending prick._ "What are you saving up for, anyway."

"A motorcycle," I answer automatically, regretting my honesty when Caleb scrunches up his face.

"What is with you, Beatrice?" I glare at the name and he scowls. "First snowboarding, now a motorcycle? And I thought you said you and that Uriah kid were just friends."

"We were," I say defensively. "Now we're more."

Caleb scoffs. "Yeah, sure," he mumbles, and I ignore him.

Caleb sighs and looks at me seriously, his eyes softening. "Beatrice, seriously… you've changed, and that Uriah is at the root of it. He's not good for you. Susan says you've hardly spoken to her in months. Sounds like you've blown her off repeatedly."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare Caleb down. "You act like meeting Uriah is the only thing that's changed in my life." Caleb opens his mouth to retort in some way but I cut him off before he can begin speaking again. "I could sit here and tell you how wrong you are, Caleb, and defend my choices in friends, and my boyfriend but I'm not going to bother. Because you never gave me a second thought these past four months you've been away at school. It's none of your concern. I'm not a child any more, I can take care of myself, and I don't need or want your protection. So just stay out of it and mind your own damn business."

Caleb's eyes harden and he narrows his eyes at me but I just carry my plate to the sink and stalk out of the kitchen without another word or glance.

* * *

 **TUESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2014 | 10:15 PM | TRIS**

As much as I eagerly accept any shift offered to me for the sake of my growing savings account, I didn't want to be at work today. I had to bail on my friends at the last minute to take an eight hour shift at work after a coworker called in, and the day was surprisingly busy. But now I'm finally done.

I walk around the side of the restaurant toward my car, which is parked in the back lot, my eyes glued to my phone. I may have missed out on the rest of the day, but I fully intend to catch the tail end of whatever fun my friends have been up to today. I'm so busy texting Madison back that I almost walk right into the figure that steps out of the shadows to block my path, and I jump in surprise.

A wave of apprehension crashes through me when I see Tobias's father, Marcus Eaton, standing in front of me. I may not have much contact with classmates from my old school, but it isn't so little to escape the rumors about Marcus skulking around the school grounds fishing for information on Tobias's whereabouts.

It is the strangest thing looking into Marcus's eyes. They are nearly identical to Tobias's in every quantifiable way, Tobias's inherited from his father, near carbon copies, the same peculiar shade of dark blue. The only difference that is really objective is that Marcus's left eye is missing that little patch of lighter blue that resides in the corner of Tobias's. But there's just something about Marcus's eyes… Tobias's always had a warmth to them. Marcus's are cold, so cold it sends a chill down my spine. I've never noticed it before, not so clearly at least, but it puts me on high alert now.

"Hello, Beatrice," Marcus hisses.

"Mr. Eaton," I say cautiously. I consider him for a moment longer and decide to be as polite as possible, and try to get out of this situation. But with how he seemed to be waiting on me, I have a feeling it won't be that simple. "I hope you had a nice holiday. I didn't expect to run into you here, I was just on my way to meet some friends, so―"

"Then we shall make this brief," he snaps with a tone that gives no room for argument. "It has come to my attention that you and my son are quite close." I swallow hard and keep my features schooled to give nothing away. "I believe you can help me to locate him. I miss him dearly, you know."

My already tense muscles go completely rigid. There is something so unnerving about this man. "We were friends, yes, but I'm afraid I don't know him well enough to have earned any sort of goodbye, or explanation of his plans," I say carefully. And really, it's the truth. Even if he did communicate with me a few times afterward, which I have no intention of revealing to Marcus Eaton. I don't know what happened to cause Tobias to leave, I don't know exactly where he is or why he hasn't let his father know he's alright. But my instincts are telling me to protect Tobias and keep secret the little I do know.

"I know that you were far more than that to one another," Marcus sneers. "I think your father would be quite interested to know where you really were all those times you claimed to be sleeping at a friend's house, don't you?"

I pause for a moment, heart pounding, before denying once again that I know anything. But I know the pause was a beat too long, I can see it in the way he narrows his eyes, the slight curve of the corner of his lips. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help. I hope you find him soon," I lie.

Marcus doesn't stop me when I hurry off to my car, but I pause when I hear him speak again just before I turn the corner. "You have a week," he says quietly. "Tell me what you know, or I'll tell your father what _I_ know."

I feel his piercing stare burning into me until I slip away around the corner of the building.


	23. Ch 23: Moving On Again

**Chapter 23  
** _ **Moving On Again**_

 **SATURDAY, JANUARY 3, 2015 | 8:45 PM | FOUR**

I stumble out of the warehouse and lean against the worn concrete wall, dropping my duffel bag next to me at my feet. I don't know if I can go back into that place again. I was going to stick around for one more fight, make a little more money to tide me over until I settle into yet another new life and find a job, but I don't think I can do it.

I always knew it was dangerous, and I didn't think I much cared. But that danger became a real-life nightmare two weeks ago. I had just won my fight at the personal cost of a concussion and was in the locker room resting then cleaning up; I don't know if it would have been better or worse had I been there to witness it. Worse, I think.

There was surprisingly little commotion, the conversations of other fighters sickeningly casual as they drifted into the dilapidated locker room. But it didn't take long to work out what had happened. I knew it would be a bloody fight ― that was inevitable when Amar went up against Max. I just had never imagined how horrible the outcome could be.

Amar made it to the hospital alive. I don't know who drove him there, only that he was pushed out of the backseat in front of the Emergency Room entrance before the SUV sped away. He made it to the hospital alive, but he didn't stay that way long. He was dead before I arrived to the hospital. Amar's boyfriend, George, was already on a last-minute flight here before the doctors came out to break the news.

I stayed there in the hospital waiting room until George arrived a few hours later. I had never even met George before, and I had to tell him that the man he loved was dead. But, though we were strangers to one another, it didn't feel that way. It was like we already knew one another through Amar's stories and George seemed determined to pick up the reins and continue taking care of me just as Amar had.

We got to know each other for real, not just through stories, as we packed up the apartment. George told me there was nothing worth staying here for with Amar gone, that he will go back to Portland to be near his sister Tori and put down roots there. And that's when he told me that there's a place for me there, too.

It seems that Tori had developed a fondness for a guy about my age, Zeke ― a friend of her receptionist at the tattoo parlor ― and Zeke was in need of a new roommate. I balked at first, skeptical that this guy could really be willing to let a perfect stranger move into his apartment. But, though the rent is cheap, George explained that Zeke can't afford to continue without a roommate and refuses to ask his family for financial help, that he couldn't even afford to go home for Christmas this year. Apparently, given the circumstances, George's word was enough for Zeke to agree.

The cold wind howls through the alley and I pull a beanie down over my ears and shove my hands into my pockets. My frozen fingers brush against a slip of paper with roughly torn edges and I pull it out in confusion. Seeing the number scrawled across the strip of paper, the image of a classically gorgeous girl, skimpy clothing showing off all her… assets… pops into my mind: the way she brushed up against me as I pushed my way out of the fight club, the seductive smirk she threw over her shoulder as she walked away, swinging her hips. My stomach clenches in guilt as I remember my eyes scanning down her body. I tear up the slip of paper and release it into the wind.

It's stupid, feeling guilty for noticing another girl. It wasn't ever that I was actually interested in the girl; even if I were looking for that sort of connection with someone right now, she really wasn't my type. Too… well… too slutty, to be blunt. _My type,_ I scoff internally. As if I've ever exactly had a type. When I think of _my type_ , one image flashes in my mind every time, and that's Beatrice. And it was never about her blonde hair or the incredible grayish-blue of her wide eyes, or her slender body and modest curves. Not that I didn't appreciate those things. But it was never really about that with Beatrice. It was always about all the things that made her, her. It was always about who she is deep inside, as if I were most attracted to her mind and her soul, and the fire of her spirit that I occasionally got to glimpse.

Before I know it, I have my cheap, prepaid phone in my hand and am dialing her number. It isn't saved in my contacts, but rather, I punch in the digits from memory. I will have to leave this phone behind when I move, just to be safe and continue evading Marcus, but for now, this is a number she should recognize. Which makes me wonder if she will answer.

I glance at the time once more before I press send; I had one of the first fights tonight so it's still early. Just before **11:00** in Chicago, so it shouldn't be too late to call. _She's probably with Susan, Megan and Tess,_ I think as I bring the phone to my ear and listen to it ring, _enjoying their last night of winter vacation before they return to Erudite Prep for a new semester._

I feel a little sick to my stomach as it continues to ring, the longer I wait the more sure that Beatrice is choosing not to answer. I shouldn't be surprised after my call to her a few months ago, but that last little bit of the conversation, her plea that I keep myself safe, I was certain she still cared.

At the fourth ring I've nearly given up hope, about to pull the phone from my ear and end the call before her voicemail can pick up, when the ringing suddenly stops and I straighten with hope.

Until― "Hello?" The voice that reaches me is decidedly not Beatrice's. Nor is it any of the girls I expected that she would be spending the evening with. No, this is an unfamiliar man answering Beatrice's phone, and suddenly that sick feeling is back in full force.

"Hello?" the guy repeats, then huffs. "Dude, are you going to call and just not say anything? Cause that's kinda creepy, you know. Like, stalker material."

After a quick exhale, I sputter, "Uh, no ― sorry ― uh… I just, um…" Another breath, deep and slow this time. "Is Beatrice there?"

The guy snickers under his breath, but doesn't explain what could be so funny about my question. "Yeah."

After a beat, impatience and irritation seeping through into my voice, I prompt, "Can I talk to her, then?"

I'm stunned, not to mention incredulous and frustrated, when he simply says, "No."

"No?" I repeat. "But you just said she was there. Who are you, anyway? Why are you answering Beatrice's phone?"

"I'm, uh, I'm Rocco," he says, sounding a little too amused. "Look, Tobias, she's here, she just doesn't want to talk to you. And I know she already told you that, last time you called. Nothing's changed. Let her go, man."

I stand there in shock, slack jawed as the call ends with a muffled click. _Rocco?_ _Who the hell is Rocco? What the hell kind of name is that, anyway? Who is he to her?_

I straighten and push off the wall, firmly pressing my lips together and clenching my teeth. Rocco is someone new, obviously, or I would have met him or at least heard of him when Beatrice and I were still together. I knew all her friends. And given that it's late on a Saturday night, and she allowed him to answer a call she didn't want to take ― I try to ignore the extra stab of pain at that thought, she wouldn't even take my call ― they've gotten pretty close in the time they've known one another, in the few months since I have been gone.

All that draws me to one inevitable conclusion: Beatrice has moved on. She's over me.

And maybe it's time for me to forget her, too.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Only took me a week this time! So, what do you think? Big hints here as to how Tobias and Tris will meet again, and it's coming pretty soon. Not next chapter, but soon. Let me know what you thought of the chapter, and thanks for reading!**_

 _ **Another A/N added a few hours after originally posting this chapter: I forgot to answer a guest review asking if this is a Fourtris story, or Uriah x Tris. It will be Fourtris. On that note, I can't reply to guest reviews, so if you want a prompt answer to any questions or anything (especially as I'm likely to forget to answer in an author's note by the time I actually upload the next chapter), you should get a pretty quick reply if you log in before reviewing. Thanks for reading!**_


	24. Ch 24: Partners in Crime

**_A/N: A big thanks to everyone who has added this story to their alerts or favorites list, and especially to those of you have reviewed. I love reviews!_**

 ** _Also an extra big thank you to Damn You Kylie. She puts up with my worrying and ranting and helps me narrow my focus, and always has fantastic ideas. She reads the chapters when I'm not sure they aren't total crap, so I can be sure I'm giving you something worth reading. And she's a fantastic friend. Don't know what I'd do without you, DYK!_**

 ** _As for the story: we're kind of skipping through time rather quickly in this chapter and the next. This chapter takes place more than six months after the last one, and the next will probably be a bigger jump than that. Because I don't want you to have to wait any longer than necessary for Tris and Four to meet again. :) Soon. I promise._**

* * *

 **Chapter 24  
** _ **Partners in Crime**_

 **THURSDAY, JULY 16, 2015 | 7:30 PM | TRIS**

The paint is wearing off the bench, and a splinter in the wood digs into my thigh. Uriah sits next to me, both of us resting the backs of our heads against the brick wall behind us, staring out the bars of the holding cell.

"Always a new adventure with you," I tease. "Never been arrested before."

"Me either," Uriah snorts. "You know, I've seen jail cells on TV, but I didn't anticipate the smell." He wrinkles his nose and waves his hand in front of face.

I nod in agreement, "Hopefully our parents will come get us out of here soon. I knew that we weren't supposed to surf at that beach but I just, you know…"

"Didn't expect to actually end up in jail?" Uriah finishes for me with a little chuckle under his breath.

"Right," I agree. "Thought they'd give us a warning or maybe a ticket or something."

"Nah, gotta make us hellions conform," he jokes.

"Hellions," I laugh. "Don't let my dad hear that one, he'll add it to his repertoire. Usually just calls you a punk."

Dad still doesn't like Uriah much. That opinion has always been completely unfounded, but that's how it is. He's been a better dad these past few months than he was when Mom first died, though, so I can't complain too much.

I thought Dad would be pissed when Marcus finally ratted me out. And he was, sort of, but he wasn't as hard on me as expected. He did start paying closer attention to my comings and goings, started enforcing a midnight curfew, and even began to occasionally text Hana to check on my whereabouts and activities when I wasn't home.

What really surprised me came later. I didn't tell him about the email and two phone calls I received from Tobias, the second of which came just days after Marcus confronted me; I wouldn't have even answered the phone, but ended up giving in to Uriah's request to let him talk to Tobias. I also maintained my previous claims that I didn't know anything about Tobias and his whereabouts, though I'm not positive that Dad believed me. If he didn't, maybe he trusted my judgement, or maybe he was just trying to make up for abandoning me in that hospital room after Mom died. Whatever the reason, after a month of borderline harassment from Marcus Eaton demanding information about his son, Dad demanded that Marcus leave me alone. He even went so far as to threaten to press charges against him for harassment.

Ever since Dad finally stood up for me, we've coexisted much more amicably than before. But it still feels a bit like a house of cards, and I have no doubt that this little arrest will be what topples the whole delicate structure.

"He's gonna kill me for making him come bail me out of jail," I admit. "I'd almost rather stay here with the stench than go home." I don't mean the last part… but just barely.

Honestly, though, the holding cell really isn't so bad, at least not with Uriah here to entertain me. But occasionally I notice him looking a little nervous, just a flash of it then it's gone, so I don't ask. Uriah doesn't keep things from me; when he works whatever it is out in his head, he'll tell me.

And soon, he does. I know it's coming when he takes a deep breath and tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. "So, Tris, I've been wondering…" Uriah says. I raise my eyebrows when his pause lasts a little too long. "What do you think you'll do after graduation?"

"College, I guess," I shrug.

I'm confused at his question; he knows I've gone with Dad to look at a few universities, all of them within driving distance. I had assumed Uriah and I would stay near Chicago; I haven't even visited any colleges away from the midwest, haven't complained at all that Dad hasn't taken me all over the country like he did Caleb.. Not that I have my heart set on any particular school, or going to school at all, for that matter, because I'm not sure what I want to do with the rest of my life just yet. But I know that Uriah had planned to go to the community college or maybe start learning a trade, so I just thought I'd stay near him.

"So you've got a detailed ten year plan set in stone then," he teases. I playfully punch him in the shoulder and he pretends to be wounded before continuing. "It's just, from the colleges you've visited, seems like you want to stay around here."

"Oh," I say. "Well, yeah. The people I care about are all here, and I don't even know what I want to do with my life, you know?"

"Yeah." He chews his lip. "I understand." There's a clear note of disappointment and defeat in his voice. It makes my stomach flip, because I don't know what's upsetting him and I'm really not used to not understanding Uriah's moods. "You want to be with your family. I get that." He looks so deep in thought, with his brow furrowed.

Then what he says hits me, and it suddenly seems like it might be important. And he's wrong. Things have been better between Dad and me, but really, there's little connection between us aside from shared DNA and residing under the same roof. And Caleb is away at school, hardly remembering that I exist, anyway.

"No, Uriah, not Dad and Caleb. I was more thinking that I don't want to be without my partner in crime," I correct him, bumping his shoulder.

Uriah breaks out into a wide grin and his eyes sparkle. "Yep, we're like Boris and Natasha; Shaggy & Scooby."

"Bonnie and Clyde," I grin back, quickly catching on.

"Mickey and Minnie."

"Mulder and Scully."

"Peanut butter and jelly."

I raise my eyebrows. "First you're comparing us to talking dogs and mice, now we're a sandwich."

"Got a little carried away," he shrugs. "Anyway, see, the thing is, Tris… Mom's been looking into nursing programs for next year. After we graduate high school."

"I thought she was already a nurse?" I ask, confused.

"She is. She has a bachelor's degree," Uriah explains. "She wants to get her master's. Become a nurse practitioner."

I nod in understanding. "Well that's good, isn't it?" I ask.

"It is," he says, not quite meeting my eyes. "Thing is, though… part of it is that she doesn't want to stay here in Chicago. Too many memories of Dad, I think. She's been mostly thinking about moving out to the west coast, somewhere that it will be easier to visit Zeke. It's just, I was thinking I might want to leave Chicago, too, and I was hoping you'd want to come with me."

There's so much hope in his eyes, and a bit of uncertainty. I think of my last conversation with my mom and I know right away. If I stayed here, it would be out of fear of the unknown, and that's not really living. I grin at him. "Where do you want to go?"

Uriah's grin lights up his whole face and he gives me a short tender kiss, and I feel much happier than I ever ought to while sitting in a holding cell.

He pulls away. "Well, I thought―"

Uriah is stopped mid-sentence and we both jump hearing the cell door slide open. "Pedrad," the officer barks. He jerks his head, commanding Uriah to follow. "Your bail has posted. Come on."

Uriah smiles apologetically and gives me another chaste kiss. "I'll check that your dad is on his way. Make sure you get out of here soon." I nod in acknowledgement and give a little wave as he follows the officer out the door.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 15, 2015 | 2:45 PM | TRIS**

"Grounding" me was my Dad's favorite punishment when I was a kid. I got the feeling that there were a few times he would much rather have given me a sound spanking, but Mom wouldn't allow it. Now she's not here to stop him but I'm too old for it, so a month of being grounded it is. At least it's almost over.

I barely got to see Uriah those first two weeks ― what a lousy summer break. In that time, work was just about the only reason I was allowed out of the house, so I could only see my friends if they came by for my lunch break. I'd had enough of that one week in, so as soon as Dad went off on another business trip, I snuck out. That's how I found out he had turned on some location tracking thing on my phone. For my disobedience, my punishment was extended.

And that doesn't count the fines I was just sentenced to. That is the worst part of all, because I was only a few hundred dollars away from my goal. With only two months to go before I turn 18 and will no longer need Dad's permission to buy the bike and get my motorcycle license, it's a huge blow. Not to mention, I will need to save a lot more over the coming year, before Uriah and I leave Chicago.

We haven't gotten to talk enough about the move to have settled on a location, and that's okay, we have plenty of time, even if we haven't even narrowed the options. We've talked about New York City, but I don't think it would quite suit us. California sounds appealing, as does spending some time traveling, seeing what America has to offer or maybe follow Zeke out to Oregon. I got the feeling that Uriah would most like to be near his brother.

The gentle knock on my door startles me much more than a hard, angry knocking would have. Because, for the past four weeks, just about every interaction I've had with my father has been angry and clipped. "Come in," I call out.

Dad walks in hesitantly, looking oddly unsure of himself as he slowly crosses the room. He sits down at the very edge of my bed and for a fraction of a second I think he's going to stand right back up, but then he slowly relaxes a bit. This is weird. Everything about his demeanor, about this entire encounter so far, feels weird. It's just such a contradiction to his attitude toward me over the past month. We haven't really discussed the hearing yesterday so I can only assume it all has something to do with that. Maybe he feels like now that the court has doled out punishment, he doesn't need to be so hostile any more? It still seems strange. Maybe his evening out last night with Jeanine Matthews somehow improved his outlook. That thought might warm me a little to the woman... if it didn't make me feel nauseous.

"Beatrice," Dad says, and for once I don't correct him for not using my preferred name. I don't want to do anything to upset his change in mood, no matter what brought it on.

"Yes, Dad?" I reply politely.

"You're about to start your senior year and I feel as though you've gotten a little off-track." _Why is he choosing his words so carefully?_ "I was out to dinner with a friend last night ― you remember Jeanine, don't you? ― and she suggested something that might help you."

I raise my eyebrows and hide my disdain at my dad so casually mentioning his _friend._ "Help me," I echo flatly. I don't need Jeanine's help. But, again, I don't want to upset this change in my dad. "With what? And what idea was that?"

Dad sighs. "Well, you know that Jeanine is the head of research and development for Norton Pharmaceuticals. She also has a Masters in psychology. Very bright, that woman is," he adds fondly with a small smile, eliciting another surge of anger that I quickly hide away. "She's about to start a drug trial for a medication that is designed to help children and adolescents experiencing depression and related disorders following trauma."

His voice is so gentle and I've longed for my dad to treat me with this sort of love and care for such a long time. Especially since Mom died. So at first I want to agree without even processing whatever he was talking about. It seems boring, vulnerable, sweet little Beatrice wants to come through.

But then I think about what he actually said, and I remember why I am not Beatrice anymore. Because everyone Beatrice loved left her, and that includes my dad. And that reminds me to pull my guard back up. So, what was he talking about? Depression… trauma. Drug trials.

Drug trials. He wants me to participate in a drug trial his girlfriend is running. First of all, I haven't been diagnosed with (nor even seen a doctor about) depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, or any of the like. He made one passing suggestion months ago about seeing a therapist, but it sounded more like a fleeting thought so I dismissed it. He never brought the idea up again, as if he forgot that he'd ever thought of it in the first place, and honestly I always assumed that was exactly what happened.

I don't want or need a therapist. And I don't need, and certainly don't want, some experimental drugs that his girlfriend concocted. I'm perfectly fine. I have Uriah to talk to and friends that I have fun with and that is enough.

"I don't know, Dad. I don't think―"

"You don't have to decide right away. But Jeanine really thinks this could help you, and so do I."

I don't want to do this. I won't do this. But I can't seem to get any words out; Beatrice is trying to claw her way back and do whatever her daddy tells her, earn his love, and Tris is ― _I_ am ― pushing her back with all my might.

"It comes with a thousand dollars compensation," he tempts me. "If you do this and put that thousand dollars toward your court fees, I'll pay the difference and you and I will just forget all this ever happened." My resolve is wavering, I could get my motorcycle and have plenty of time to save up for wherever Uriah and I go off to next year. It would make everything so much easier.

I'm about to stop resisting, about to agree. Then Dad says, "Please give this a try, Beatrice. You seem like a different person lately. You were always such a sweet girl, my perfect little angel."

 _Perfect little angel?_

No. No, despite all his gentleness and syrupy-sweet words, this isn't right. I stiffen and lean further away from him.

"I don't know what you have to gain from this idea, Dad, but I have never been _perfect_ or an _angel._ Not in your eyes, anyway." The stunned look on his face suddenly floods me with satisfaction and spurs me on. "As far back as I can remember, I've never been good enough for you and you've always made sure I knew it. So, I don't know what your angle is with this little plan you cooked up with _that woman,_ but I don't need the help she's offering and I won't do it."

He makes no move to get up, he just sits there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"And you know what, Dad?" I press on. "You're right. I _am_ a different person now. _Of course_ I am! Everyone left me. I watched Mom die, you and Caleb basically abandoned me, of course I've changed. People change, evolve, and it doesn't always mean we need to be 'fixed'. So you can forget letting your precious ' _friend'_ test her experiments on me."

I practically jump off the bed but calmly walk across the room to the door. Even though it's _my_ room, he can sit there as long as he wants. I just want to get out of here and away from him.

I walk at a steady pace to the door, only pausing to throw over my shoulder, "You said it yourself, Dad, I'm not little Beatrice any more. So it shouldn't be that hard to remember, my name is Tris."


	25. Ch 25: Future Plans

**Chapter 25  
** _ **Future Plans**_

 **SATURDAY, MAY 21, 2016 | 8:30 PM | TRIS**

Within moments of entering the Pedrads' home, Zeke is thrusting a beer into my hands. "Your mom is out tonight, I take it?" I laugh.

"Yeah," he grins. "Working the graveyard shift tonight. Or else I would have had this little celebration yesterday, when it should have been."

I roll my eyes. "We were out with our friends last night, anyway."

Zeke is in town for the weekend. Yesterday, Uriah and I officially became high school graduates. We're now done with required attendance and tests and homework, nagging teachers and stuck-up cheerleaders. No one really gave me any trouble, thanks to already having an in with Uriah's group, but I'm glad to be free of the whole scene nonetheless.

"Schmoopy!" Uriah calls as he comes out of the hallway and into the living room. "Now the party can begin!"

"Not much of a party with just three of us," I laugh.

"Psh, it's always a party when you mix the Pedrad brothers and alcohol," Uriah brags.

"True, little bro," Zeke chuckles, "but actually, not everyone is here yet."

"Who are we missing?" I ask, puzzled.

"You don't know? I thought he would have mentioned that I invited him." Zeke claps his hands and rubs them together conspiratorially. "Guess it'll be a surprise, then." I look to Uri but he just shrugs and rolls his eyes, grin never leaving his face. "We have things to discuss, anyway. Specifically, these plans you have to come be near the Party Master, AKA yours truly." He points at himself with both thumbs.

"Ah, yes, what's going on with that, Zeke?" I ask. "I know Uriah asked you to find us somewhere to live and I haven't heard a word about it since."

Zeke has been home several times since his new roommate moved in about a year and a half ago. We last saw him at Christmas, and that was when we explained our plans to move to Portland after graduation. But Uriah and I don't know the area or anyone there besides Zeke and his girlfriend Shauna, who he brought with him to Chicago when he spent a week at home last summer. We won't have jobs lined up in advance before arriving there, so we need Zeke to find us someone needing a new roommate or two.

"Yeah," Zeke scratches the back of his neck, "well, I did find a solution to that. Shauna helped." He grins and wiggles his eyebrows.

"I don't even want to know what that little eyebrow wag was about," I tease.

"Ha! Well, here's the plan. Shauna and I have decided to move in together."

"What?!" Uriah shouts. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother? Never thought you'd settle down this quick."

Zeke rolls his eyes. "It's just an apartment, not like we're getting married."

"Well, I'm happy for you, Zeke," I say. "Concerned for Shauna, though. Like, worried for her mental health. What is she thinking, voluntarily putting up with you that much of the time?"

"You know, maybe I'll go back to this friend of mine and tell him he doesn't want to live with you, Trissy," Zeke says. "You're just mean."

"The truth hurts," Uriah says.

Zeke sticks out his lip, pouting.

"Okay, okay, so," Uriah interrupts, "have you found us a place to live or not?"

"Of course," Zeke says in mock offense. "Oh ye of little faith. Yeah, so, I'm going to move in with Shauna, but the thing is, her roommate isn't moving out until the end of July. So, you're free to move in sometime in August."

"Move in?" I ask, while also internally groaning. That means two extra months living not only with Dad, but also with Caleb, who just got home from college for the summer and is working for Jeanine Matthews again.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "Yes. Into my apartment. You guys will take my room in my current apartment, and Four won't be stuck paying the rent and utilities on his own. Win-win for everyone."

"Four," I mutter. "Do we at least get to know this guy's real name before we live with him? No parent would seriously name their kid 'Four'." Zeke has talked about his roommate, Four, each time he's been home since the guy moved in, so in a way I feel like I know him...but at the same time, I realize I know almost nothing about him. Not his real name, where he's from... nothing substantial, though I do know that he goes to the same college as Zeke and they both study computer science.

Zeke laughs. "Whenever someone asks if it's his real name or a nickname, he just says, 'It's my name.' I assume it's a nickname but I honestly have no idea what his real name is. He's kinda private, but he's a really good guy." He snaps his fingers. "Oh, I know! I'll find a photo so you don't feel like you're going in blind."

Zeke pulls out his phone and scrolls through his photos while I go to the kitchen and grab another bottle of beer for each of us, plus an extra for the mystery guest who should be joining us soon. When I get back, Zeke's eyebrows are drawn together and his tongue is stuck between his teeth. It reminds me of the way the tip of Uriah's tongue sticks out the side of his mouth when he is concentrating.

"You've lived with the guy for over a year, Zeke. How hard is it to find a photo?" Uriah ribs his brother.

Zeke shakes his head. "It's so weird. Every single picture, he's somehow managed to end up out of the frame. But hey, would a photo of his back help you any?" Zeke holds up his phone and points at a figure in the background. Tall, tan skin and close-cropped dark hair, and a tattoo is barely visible peeking out the neckline of his shirt.

"Oh thanks, now I know exactly what he looks like," I say sarcastically, laughing under my breath. A knock sounds at the front door.

"Oh well," Zeke shrugs as he gets up to answer the door, his own beer in one hand and carrying the extra bottle in the other. "Guess it'll just have to be a surprise!"

He opens the door and my jaw drops in shock and dread. Uriah groans and scrubs his hands over his face. "Well, I hope it's a better surprise than this one," I mutter.

"Me too," Uriah agrees.

At the front door, Zeke is enthusiastically greeting Caleb and has already shoved the bottle of beer at him. Caleb takes it, looking stunned. When Zeke tries to give him a fist bump Caleb stands there as if he has no idea what to do and leaves Zeke hanging. What the hell was Zeke thinking inviting my brother here?

"Man," Zeke says, walking away from Caleb and back to the couch. "You'd better start catching up."

I cringe and try to hide my bottle under the coffee table, but Caleb has already seen it and is giving me his look of disapproval. He perfected it years ago.

"Don't let him bother you," Uriah says to me quietly. "This is _our_ celebration. Zeke can deal with Caleb, it's his fault the goody two shoes is here."

I consider his words and nod resolutely. "You're right. Go get something stronger and start a drinking game. Maybe we can even get him drunk enough to make him fun."

"You sure he's even capable of having fun?" Uriah asks, sounding dubious.

I laugh. "Not sure at all, but there's only one way to find out."

* * *

Zeke has been trying to talk Caleb into having a drink for the past half-hour. I finally discreetly swiped the beer sitting in front of Caleb still untouched, which I ended up having to hurry a bit to finish before it got any warmer. I know Zeke isn't going to give up on Caleb anytime soon, plus if Caleb drinks, too, he's less likely to rat me out to Dad. He won't be 21 until January.

"Caleb, come on," I goad. "We graduated last night, don't be such a party pooper. Nobody's driving anywhere tonight, Hana doesn't mind if we sleep here." The stare of disapproval is less severe than it was earlier; Zeke has worn him down just enough. "Look, how about I make you a rum and coke. I'll make it really weak."

I keep eye contact and patiently wait for my brother to cave. I figure it's a 50/50 shot. I see the change in his face the moment he gives in. "Fine. But keep it weak. I still don't approve of you drinking, B-Tris," he stumbles over my name and quickly catches himself seeing my death glare. "I want to stay sober enough to keep an eye on you. And you better make yours just as weak as mine."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, _Dad,_ " I snark as I get up to go to the kitchen, and Uriah follows me in. I pour Caleb's and my drinks, making sure to keep straight which is which; I agreed with Caleb to placate him, but I'm celebrating and don't want a weak drink like his. Uriah pours drinks for himself and Zeke, both just a little stronger than my own.

When we're back in the living room and everyone has their drink cups, Zeke clears his throat.

"I propose that we play a drinking game. I think the new graduates should choose. Truth or dare, or Never Have I Ever?"

"Never Have I Ever," I call out before Uriah begins to speak. Seems like the safer choice with Caleb here. When I showed him my motorcycle yesterday, he scolded me about my supposed recklessness.

"Alright! Tris got to chose, so big man over here can start," Zeke says, clapping Uriah's shoulder.

"Uh, wait," Caleb says. "I don't know this game."

Zeke looks stunned and I roll my eyes at my brother.

"Oh. It's simple," Zeke says. "You say something you've never done, or hell, something you _have_ done if you want to, and everyone who has done it has to drink."

"You should have the advantage of inexperience in this game, Caleb," I chuckle. My brother doesn't do much else but study. What a boring way to live life.

"Okay," Uriah says, anxious to get started. "Never have I ever―" he pauses and eyes Caleb. "Never have I ever earned a college credit."

Caleb, Zeke and I all drink. "Really, Uri," I scold. "Couldn't you have worded it differently? Now I have to drink." I earned eight college credits this year in my AP classes.

Zeke is next. "Never have I ever been skydiving."

Uri and I both drink. "Pansycake," Uriah teases his brother. "You've got to try it sometime, it's amazing."

Caleb's eyes go wide and the color drains from his face. "Seriously, Tris?!" he gasps.

I shrug. "Perfectly safe. Well, safe enough. We went just a few days ago for Uri's 18th birthday."

* * *

Two hours later, we are seated around the kitchen table. Uriah sits next to me with a hand on my leg; Caleb is across from me, attempting to rebuild the Jenga block tower he just knocked over.

Caleb can hardly stay on his feet. Each time he has finished a drink, I have made the next one stronger than the last. He hasn't even noticed the incremental changes. I can only hope he forgets everything he's learned tonight. We've moved onto playing Jenga. Zeke has decided to make this a drinking game as well, and every time one of us removes a plank from the tower, the person has to take another big sip of their drink. It's fun as a drinking game because the more you drink, the harder it is to keep your hand steady. Caleb has knocked the whole thing over twice now.

"Aren't you in college, Caleb?" Zeke asks with a confused look on his face.

"Yep," Caleb says proudly. "Just finished my sophomore year at Harvard. I'm pre-med."

"Huh," Zeke says. "So… what do you do? I mean, for fun? They don't have parties there?"

I stifle a laugh. "I don't think it would matter where Caleb was going to school," I say. "Fun is a foreign concept to him."

"Yeah, why didn't you tell me that before I invited him?" Zeke asks.

"Hey! I can be fun!" Caleb protests. I totally ignore him.

"Why didn't you ask me before you invited him?" I counter. "Besides, he's been surprisingly entertaining now that he's wasted."

Uriah's hand inches up my thigh. We aren't the type to make out in the school hallway like many other couples our age, though we both enjoy cuddling. But Uriah tends to get more handsy when he's had a lot to drink. And we both are after any sort of adrenaline rush.

"Can we invite Susan over?" Caleb asks with the excitement at his idea clear in his voice.

"I knew it!" I shout, pointing a finger at him. I suspected he and Susan had something going on long ago. "How long has that been happening?"

Caleb opens his mouth as if he's about to answer, but suddenly he gets a strange look on his face, tries to get up quickly, and stumbles. The next thing I know Caleb is on his hands and knees emptying the contents of his stomach all over the kitchen floor.

"You're on clean-up duty, Zeke," I say firmly after Uriah shows Caleb to the bathroom and goes to get him some clothes to change into.

"He's your brother," Zeke whines in protest.

"And he's your guest," I reply before going to make sure Uriah doesn't need help with my extremely wasted big brother.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, MAY 29, 2016 | 6:45 PM | TRIS**

"What the hell, Beatrice?!" Caleb bellows as he storms into my room. I look up from my clothes sorting task. I'm disappointed that Uriah and I won't be able to move to Portland for a few months longer than we had hoped, so I am going through my stuff and getting rid of things to make the task of packing easier later. It cheers me up a little.

I stare at my brother blankly. "No idea," I say, "since you haven't told me what you're so upset about."

"Why do you have this?" Caleb demands, holding out a box that has long been forgotten: the extra Morning After Pill that Zeke bought me almost two years ago. I remember that it was buried deep in the back of the bathroom cabinet behind a box of tampons.

I snatch it out of his hands. "How did you find this?" I shout back. "Why are you going through my stuff?"

And to my horror, just as he snatches it back, Dad walks into my bedroom. He must have heard us yelling. "Find what?" he asks sounding angry before he even sees what I have. Caleb takes advantage of my distraction and snatches it back, then hands it to Dad.

"Plan B. The morning after pill. Tris keeps that bathroom cabinet packed full of her crap and it was a mess so I decided to clean it out," Caleb says. "This expired months ago, Tris. You've had it a long time. Just how long have you been whoring yourself around?"

"You don't get to talk about me that way," I hiss. "And it's none of your fucking business."

"Language, Beatrice," Dad scolds. He shakes his head. "I just don't know what to do with you."

"Dad, do you realize what all she has been getting up to?!" Caleb exclaims. "I knew about the snowboarding and the surfing arrest and the motorcycle, and Susan told me about how she was sneaking around with Tobias Eaton for years, but my god. Skydiving, jumping off cliffs, street races, I even found out she has body piercings. Planning to move across the country with that boyfriend of hers. Marcus Eaton has spotted her outside of clubs in the middle of the night." Wait, what? How does Caleb know about that? "And now she's just keeping Plan B around as if she could need it at any time!"

"I was just trying to be responsible," I grumble.

"Responsible!" Caleb scoffs. "You've got to be kidding me, Beatrice. You're insane."

"I'm not crazy, I'm just not completely boring like you are, Caleb. Oh, by the way, Dad, your perfect son was completely wasted the other night, FYI."

"I didn't drink half as much as you did," Caleb argues, glaring at me. As if I wasn't going to bring it up when he spilled so many of the things I have kept hidden.

"Enough!" Dad shouts. "Caleb, thank you. This has been… enlightening. Move along, I need to speak to your sister in private. You and I will talk about your own choices later." Dad doesn't stop glaring at me the whole time he speaks. Caleb smirks at me and marches out the door with his arms crossed over his chest and Dad closes the door behind him.

"Sit down, Beatrice," he commands.

I really wish he would quit calling me that. But I obey anyway. Dad paces back and forth across the room.

"I just don't know what to do with you Beatrice," he starts, shaking his head. "There is just too much of your mother in you. She was almost as wild as you are when we were young. It was fascinating to me at the time, I got so wrapped up in it, but you cannot live your life this way, Beatrice. You'll ruin your life, this―" he shakes the little box in his hand at me. "You shouldn't even have reason to have this on hand!"

"I'm eighteen years old, Dad."

"Yes, well, so was your mother! And now you want to move, with that punk? To where?!" He shakes his head. "Taking a year off before college is bad enough, but Beatrice! You're going to end up knocked up, just like your mother did. Who knows if he will even stick by you!"

"Wait… what?!" I say in shock.

"You know how young your mother was, Beatrice. She was only nineteen when Caleb was born. You really didn't think we could have planned for our lives to go that way, did you? You've become reckless to be with that boy, just like I did when I met your mother, and I ended up hurting Jeanine and raising children before I was really ready to."

"What? _Jeanine?!"_ I echo. Dad just waves me off.

"I cannot allow this to continue, Beatrice. I should have done something about you sooner, but I won't continue to let this go. Jeanine will be running another round of that drug trial soon, an improved version. You can join that."

"Like hell I will," I mutter.

"Oh, yes, you will. You will, Beatrice. You will stay here in Chicago, you will get the medication you need to get your mental health in order―"

"There's nothing wrong with my mental health!"

"―whether you do it willingly or not. If necessary, I will find a way to have you deemed unfit to look after yourself, for your own safety. This will stop!" Dad punctuates the last word with his hand slapping the top of my dresser. I feel like I am going to be sick as he storms out of the room.

* * *

 **MONDAY, MAY 30, 2016 | 11:40 AM | URIAH**

It has been a crazy morning. I was looking forward to sleeping in, but Tris called and woke me up at 8:15 AM begging me to come over and help her pack. I didn't understand why, when we aren't planning to leave for a couple months yet, but she was insistent that she needed to get it done now, "while they're gone to work."

"They," it turned out, were her dad and brother. Her explanation of what happened yesterday was jumbled, but eventually I managed to piece it together: her brother found the extra morning after pill that Zeke apparently bought her after our drunken first time together, then ratted her out not only about that, but a lot of what was revealed in our drinking game, as well. Then her dad demanded that she take medications to fix her "mental health" and threatened to have her declared unfit.

She's panicked. So panicked, that I am helping her pack up everything she owns so she can get out of this house before the end of the work day.

"This is the last box of books," I tell her as I close it with packing tape.

"I think we're almost done. Just that top shelf in the closet," she says as she drags a stool over so she can reach the shelf.

I lean against the wall and chuckle. "What're you doing, Mighty Mouse?" She glares at me for the nickname. I love it because it always gets a reaction. Besides, it suits her. She is tiny, but she is certainly fierce. "Want some help?"

"Fine," she says, pretending to be annoyed.

I start handing things down to her. "So, as you said, we're almost done. But, where are we taking this stuff?"

Tris bites her lip. "I called your mom this morning. She said I can keep them in a corner of the garage and she'll put them in her pod thing when she moves to Seattle. Then we can borrow Zeke's truck and go get them. Besides, we're donating half of it. It's just a few boxes. Everything I really need is in the suitcase." She sighs. "We'll have to tell her about our idea, though."

Tris wants not just to leave home, but to get out of Chicago entirely, as soon as possible. At one point, before we settled on Portland, we talked about traveling for a while. But first she wiped out half her savings account with the court fees, and I spent half the last year working at a gas station to pay Mom back as well. Then Tris bought her bike; it was a lot cheaper than she had originally planned because it needed work. I helped her fix it up, but in the process, buying parts ate up a few hundred more.

So, because we will both need jobs fairly soon after leaving Chicago, Tris and I had decided against the traveling idea. Until now.

Tris was up late last night researching and discovered that free camping is available, for up to fourteen days at a time, at various public lands run by the Bureau of Land Management and the U.S. Forest Service. As soon as she explained, I got excited about the whole idea, imagining all the trails we could hike, waterfalls we could leap from, and rivers we could fish and swim. I think my favorite thing about this plan might be that there really _is_ no plan. No itinerary, no big set expectations, just Tris and me exploring whatever is in our path for the next two months or so.

"Mom shouldn't be a problem," I say as I tape the bottom of another box so Tris can fill it with photo albums and other sentimental stuff. "She'll probably think it's a great idea. She's really happy that we're going to be so close by."

My mom secured a spot in a master's program in Seattle, and a nursing job working nights at a hospital nearby. It's still a few hours drive from Portland, where Zeke lives, but close enough to visit once in a while.

A few minutes later I find that we have packed everything except a large shoebox that Tris is holding in her hands and staring at. I swallow hard when I realize that I've seen it before. It's the box from the bonfire, the one I kept her from throwing into the fire. The box filled with her memories of her first love, Tobias.

Slowly, Tris removes the rubberband that has been holding it tightly closed and lifts the lid off the box.

"I haven't opened this box in a long time," she says quietly.

"Since the bonfire?" I ask.

Tris bites her lip. "No. I looked through it one more time after that… after that night that Tobias called. The first time, when I talked to him, remember?"

Of course I remember.

Tris holds out a charm bracelet. "He gave this to me for my sixteenth birthday. Our first kiss was on the ferris wheel at Navy Pier."

It clicks, after two years of knowing her, it finally clicks. "That's why you don't like ferris wheels." Still. To this day.

"Right," she sighs. She starts pulling things out and showing them to me, telling me the stories behind them. It's the first time I have seen a photo of Tobias, other than a small glimpse at the picture at the top of the stack, in the dim light from the bonfire nearly two years ago. My stomach drops seeing how happy she is in the photos with him. But a lot has changed for Tris in these last few years, and it has changed her. Really, the best comfort is the knowledge that even if he returns to Chicago, she won't be here. She will be with me, far away from this place. Far away from her brother and her dad, and Marcus Eaton, and her connection to Tobias.

"Is it wrong that I want to keep this stuff?" Tris asks me quietly as she puts the lid back on the box.

"Of course not, Tris," I answer. "You loved him. Our experiences make us who we are, it's okay to want to keep your memories with you."

Tris smiles at me ― a smile that isn't masking her sadness as well as she probably hopes ― and places the Tobias box inside the bigger box with the rest of her keepsakes. We seal it up and cheer.

"Now let's hurry," Tris says, checking her watch. "Caleb could be home in a couple hours and I think this will take more than one trip."

"Ready whenever you are," I tell her, brushing aside my jealousy at Tobias. He doesn't matter, he's the past, and my girl and I are stepping into our future.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Guys, the next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for. Tris and Four will meet again. Thanks for sticking with me this far!**_


	26. Ch 26: New Beginnings

_A/N: Updates will probably be a little slower (I'll aim for every other week?) until after the holiday season is over. I have a very, very busy December coming up and may not have much time to write._

 _Thank you as always for the reviews ― reviews make me very happy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 26  
** _ **New Beginnings**_

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 13, 2016 | 2:45 PM | FOUR**

I lean the mattress and box spring against one wall as Zeke tilts the bedframe up to lean against another.

"What are they doing at Crater Lake?" I ask as I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. "I thought they were coming up the coast."

"They were," Zeke answers, calling out from the hall as he drags the mop bucket into the room. I pick up the broom and begin to sweep the wood floor so Zeke can follow with the mop. "They stayed along the coast from San Diego up to the Redwoods. But they'll have plenty of time to surf the Oregon coast once they're living here. Uriah said they wanted to cliff dive at Crater Lake on the way up since it's so far south, they may not make it that far again for a while."

I shudder at the thought of jumping from such a great height ― and on purpose?! ― as Zeke babbles on.

"I can't wait for them to get here! Tris already promised they'll go skydiving with me for my birthday, like they did for Uri's. You should have seen her brother's face when we were making those plans," Zeke chuckles. "I don't know how Tris and her brother came from the same family, he thought we were all completely insane. Wish I could've taken that week off to go white water rafting in the Colorado River with them."

"Probably could have if they had told you ahead of time," I point out.

Zeke laughs. "Very true," he says, grinning. "Not much for planning, those two."

It's obvious how fond Zeke is of them both, but honesty, the few tales Zeke has relayed to me have left me nervous about living with this pair. When they landed themselves in jail a year ago Zeke chuckled about it for days. Currently, they have spent the past two or so months wandering their way from the Great Lakes to the Pacific Ocean on their round-about way to Portland. Never any plan for what comes next. That spontaneity unnerves me; can you really count on people who float through life like that? And these are people I will be depending on to pay their part of the rent and utilities.

"Yeah, seems that way," I say without humor. "Given what we're up to today."

When I woke up this morning I knew exactly how I planned to spend my weekend. It has been a busy week of classes condensed to four- and eight-week summer sessions (two of one, two of the other) during the day, nights working security, and the stress and dread of finals approaching in the coming week. I would wake up early, as usual, for a run and a workout. Then after a shower and breakfast, I would study in my quiet, empty apartment.

And that's exactly how I started my day. I even turned off my phone so that Zeke wouldn't call and drag me away from my work.

That backfired before lunchtime hit: Zeke opened my front door with the spare key, waltzing in without even bothering to knock. That I wouldn't answer the phone was his excuse for barging in. And instead of studying, my time since Zeke's arrival has been occupied helping to finish cleaning out his old room because ― surprise! ― Uriah and what's-her-name will be setting off from Crater Lake tomorrow morning and expect to arrive by the afternoon. Leave it to Zeke to put everything off to the last minute.

But Zeke is my best friend. He accepted me without question, he is loyal, and he keeps me from taking myself too seriously. I know I owe him a lot. It was less the potential financial strain and more my friendship with Zeke that pushed me to agree to Zeke's request. His brother was about to graduate high school and wanted to move out here and be closer to Zeke. I could understand why Uriah wouldn't want to stay in Chicago; Zeke and Uriah lost their dad a few months before I met Zeke, and their mother has enrolled in a graduate program in Seattle. No reason for Uriah to stay there, except for his girlfriend. But Zeke's brother has a lot more courage than I had when I decided to leave home, and brought it up with the girl, who agreed to come with him. I haven't met or spoken to either of them yet.

"Well…" Zeke drawls. "I did tell them I'd have the room ready by the 7th… and they _may_ have warned me of their plans a couple days ago."

I stare at him, incredulous. I've seen Zeke every day and not once did he bother to mention that Uriah and what's-her-name would arrive this weekend. No, not a word.

"And you didn't have this done sooner… why?"

Zeke shrugs. "Doing things earlier than necessary, does that really sound like me?"

I groan, letting the broom fall to the floor and pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off the hint of a coming headache. "You do realize I have finals this week, Zeke."

Zeke scoffs, stares at me for a second, and dramatically rolls his eyes. "You do realize that you've aced every test all term, Four. I don't know why you can't just chill and take the summer off of school like the rest of us, anyway."

"Because I can get so many credits done in such a short time." I don't hide the irritation in my voice; Zeke has complained about my decision to take summer classes at least twice a week for the past two months ― anytime my school schedule interferes with something he wants me to do. Usually I'm dodging the proverbial bullet. "I have catching up to do anyway, remember," I add, referring to having missed the first two potential terms of college while I was in Albuquerque.

Zeke screws up his face at my tone of voice. "Live a little, Four. You're too uptight. When was the last time you got laid?"

"Zeke," I say in warning.

"It was that girl Tegan, wasn't it? That party at Sean Warner's. What was that, two months ago?"

"Zeke," I repeat.

"Seriously, Four. All this tension, it's not good for you. Makes you so uptight. Then you get mad and there's that little vein in your temple that pulses and―"

" _Zeke._ " I snap.

Zeke grins, his finger still on his own temple, tapping the spot he had just been mentioning.

"I'll talk you into it," he says with total confidence. "Just you wait. The party tonight. And don't you try and get out of that, by the way. Besides, this is the last night you've got this place to yourself. No one here to witness your date's walk of shame tomorrow morning."

I huff in exasperation. "Good luck with that. Come on, let's get this room clean already."

* * *

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 12:10 PM | FOUR**

You'd think Zeke and Shauna were the ones rooming with these two instead of me. Zeke sent me a text that they will show up with pizza around noon so they can be here to greet Uriah and Tris (I finally asked Zeke to remind me of her name last night) when they arrive.

On my way to the door, I notice the message that has been added in a bubbly, feminine handwriting on the whiteboard by the front door. _Nita_ it reads, followed by her phone number. I quickly wipe the reminder of last night's ill-advised companionship before I open the door to let my friends in. The food is from one of my favorite local pizzerias and I immediately pull down three plates from the cupboard and serve myself two slices.

Soon the three of us have settled on the couch and Zeke has turned on the Cubs game. They're playing the Cardinals and I zone out watching the baseball game for a minute before Shauna grunts.

"Ugh," she says, looking at me with disgust. I raise my eyebrows and to my horror, she holds up, pinched between two fingers, a vaguely familiar lacy red bra. I feel the heat flooding my cheeks as I set my plate on the coffee table, snatch the undergarment away from her, and quickly toss it into my room before shutting my bedroom door.

"Oh ho ho!" Zeke chortles. "So I _was_ successful in convincing you to let loose last night."

"Shut up, Zeke," I mumble, hiding my face in my hands.

"I'm sure Tris will just love finding treasures like that in the couch cushions," Shauna mutters, wiping her hands on her pants as if Nita's bra would give her cooties. What do I know; maybe it would. It's not like I know anything about the girl. I'm not sure I would have even remembered her name if I hadn't just erased it from the whiteboard a few minutes ago; I was pretty wasted by the time I started talking with her.

"Unless," Shauna says, drawing out the word. "Unless Four actually likes this one. Gonna ask her for a second date?" she asks hopefully.

"I don't think she's really the girlfriend type, Shauna," I say with an eye roll. The only thing I know about Nita is that she came home with me an hour after we met.

"And who _is_ the 'girlfriend type' in your mind, Four?" Shauna challenges. "I've yet to see you date anyone."

"That's not true," Zeke defends. "There was that girl last year, what was her name… Leah!"

"Mia," I correct.

Shauna seems to raise her eyes to the ceiling as she thinks. "Oh, right. Mia. That doesn't count. That lasted, what… two weeks?"

"Nah, I'd say it was a good month. Maybe five weeks, even," Zeke argues. Loyal as always.

They look to me to settle the dispute and I just shrug. I was never all that interested in Mia. I tried to date someone just to get my friends off my back. I'm not opposed to dating on principle, or anything. But I don't see the point in trying to create a connection where there is none. It has been years since I last met someone who could captivate me, and since I have, anything less fails to catch my interest.

When the Cubs and Cardinals are tied at the bottom of the 7th inning and Shauna has long since curled up in a corner of the couch to play a game on her phone, Zeke answers his own phone and jumps up with a burst of energy. "Ready to meet your new roommates?" he grins before darting out of the living room.

Shauna abandons her phone on the coffee table and follows him while I turn off the TV. I gather the plates leftover from our pizza and place them in the sink. From the kitchen window, I can see the reunion taking place in the parking lot below.

Zeke is standing next to a vintage American-made muscle car with pairs of both surfboards and snowboards strapped to the roof. I'm actually quite impressed that two people managed to live for months ― by choice ― out of that little car. Zeke's arms are wrapped around a guy a couple years younger and several inches taller than himself, whose lips are stretched in a wide smile.

Shauna is facing my direction smiling at a petite girl, standing next to a motorcycle, who must be Tris. Tris is placing the motorcycle helmet inside the seat of the bike. My eyes scan lazily down her figure before I remind myself that this is Uriah's girlfriend. I'm not typically one to ogle every girl I see, but this girl… the leather jacket, the tight fitting dark wash jeans, blue-streaked, windswept hair falling around her shoulders, she's certainly intriguing.

I turn away from the window and slip on my shoes before following down to the parking lot to meet the newcomers and see if I can help carry their stuff.

"Here he is!" Zeke booms as I come into view.

I force a smile and reach out to shake Uriah's hand. Just as his hand grips mine, there's a gasp from my right and I see Uriah's forehead wrinkle in concern just before I turn to face his girlfriend.

And when I see her face, it knocks the wind out of me.

"Beatrice," I breathe.

Time stands still as we stare at each other. For that moment I take in the shock and horror on her face.

Then she drops the backpack that she had slung over one shoulder, turns on her heel, and takes off running while I stare still frozen, just watching her disappear.


	27. Ch 27: Moving Day

_Thank you guys so much for the awesome response to the last chapter! You made my week. In this chapter we're hopping back a few hours from where we left off in the last one. Happy reading!_

* * *

 **Chapter 27  
** _ **Moving Day**_

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 7:30 AM | TRIS**

"Tris," Uriah half-sings. I groan and snuggle closer into his side, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him. Even in August, the early morning mountain air is chilly; we even found a patch of snow for a snowball fight yesterday.

He kisses the top of my head and runs his hand up and down my back. "Schmoopy," he stage whispers into my ear. "Come on." He pitches his voice into a falsetto and with an affected accent gushes, "It's a big, big, big day!"

I can't help giggling at his Hunger Games reference. "I should get you a pink wig to go with that accent," I tease back. I roll part way off of him and prop myself up on my right forearm. After a short good morning kiss to his lips, I look at him thoughtfully. "Really never thought I'd wake up in a tent with Effie Trinket."

"May the odds be ever in your favor," he jokes. I smile and lay my head once again on his shoulder, snuggling into him again. Uriah's voice loses his joking quality as he says, "You ready for today?"

Moving day.

I tilt my head to glance at his face, but I keep my head on his shoulder this time. "I think so. I know you can't wait to see Zeke, and I'm excited to see him again too. This trip has been amazing, but I think it's time for that fresh start. I'm ready for a new beginning. I've got the only thing I need from home." I trace nothings on his skin under his thin t-shirt and he buries his nose in my hair and sighs in contentment. "Though," I add as I notice the sensation of oils and grime covering my skin, "I do kind of wish I had listened to you yesterday about finding a hotel to stay in last night. I'm getting sick of these campsite showers."

Uriah laughs. "Well, at least this site has them," he says. Many of the places we've made camp over the past few months have offered no amenities, and we've often relied on streams and lakes to clean ourselves. "Besides, you had a good point. We don't know how long it will take us to find jobs once we get to Portland." _And our funds are running low._ We leave that unspoken, but it's on both of our minds.

I pull my hand out from under the sleeping bag and check my watch for the time: 7:40 AM. With a groan, I roll onto my back. "Grab me some clothes, will you?" I ask; both our duffel bags are on Uriah's other side.

Soon we're both dressed in jeans, t-shirts and hoodies and have packed all our things into our bags. We snack on muffins and drink bottles of water, not bothering to make a fire and cook anything this morning as we want to get out of here early. We decide to drive as far as Eugene, then we will stop for a hike and a bigger meal.

Both our phones chime, first Uriah's and then mine. I look at the screen and smile seeing that Zeke sent me a text message.

 _[Zeke]  
Get my brother to stop messing around and head up here already!_

I smile.

 _[Tris]  
Is someone anxious to see their baby brother?_

 _[Zeke]  
That little menace? No, I'm anxious to see the one girl who can put up with him._

Zeke has texted me more and more frequently over the past two years, and he can always make me smile.

 _[Tris]  
No wonder Shauna and I get along so well. We must both have the patience of saints. Don't worry, we're eating breakfast now and about to pack up. One of us will text you when we stop in Eugene._

Eugene is about halfway between our current campground and our new apartment in Portland. Usually on travel days, we don't stop every two hours like we will today, but I think we have both grown weary of long days by ourselves on the road. In those few days before we left Chicago, we discussed the possibility of selling my bike so we could travel together, or even both our rides so that we could buy a pick-up truck or SUV for travel. In the end, not only was Uriah far too attached to the old car he fixed up with his dad, but I also didn't want to give up my bike after having worked so hard to earn the money to buy and fix it up.

A truck, of course, would have been far more practical. We wouldn't have needed to strap all our recreational gear ― both of our snowboards and surfboards, the skateboards fit in the cab of Uriah's car at least ― and we could have brought more clothing and belongings along with us. We could have stopped for laundry days half as often, maybe we could have even forgone the tent and just thrown a mattress in the back of the pick-up.

But we made it, no regrets. Before my mom got sick, before Tobias left, before I met Uriah, before everything changed for me, a trip like this seemed like a pipe dream. I can't imagine that I would have ever thought to suggest a trip like this to Tobias. I never would have thought I could be brave enough to basically tell my dad to go to hell and just up and leave. I never believed I could just explore with no real plan, simply trusting that whatever came up, I could handle it. And I still don't think I ever could have believed in myself enough to do this on my own. But with Uriah by my side, anything seemed possible and every time we ran into a snag, we had each other's backs and we found a way through it.

By 8:30, Uriah and I have showered, completely cleaned up the campsite, and have all our things packed away in the backseat and trunk of the Camaro. I help Uriah check that the boards strapped to his roof are completely secure, then I turn and look wistfully back at the empty campsite. It's not this campsite in particular I will miss ― we only spent two nights here, and there was nothing that notable about our stay, nothing that stood out over the rest of our journey. But while we traveled, never knowing what came next was freeing. It really felt like anything was possible.

I feel Uriah step closer, then his chest presses against my back and his arms wrap around me.

"It was a fun trip," Uriah says. "I love going on adventures with you."

"Me too," I sigh. "I'll miss it." I turn in his arms and give him a slow kiss. "But the adventures are far from over."

"Yeah," he smiles. "This is just a whole new kind of adventure, staying in one place again. Walls and kitchens and jobs."

"Almost seems odd, the two of us living such a normal life. But I'm ready for a new kind of adventure, I think."

Uriah hums. "I'm so glad you agreed to come with me. I couldn't imagine leaving you behind."

I give him another quick kiss and pull away. I hold out a hooked pinky and he meets it with his own. As we grin and shake, I say, "So long as I have my partner in crime, I'm ready for anything."

* * *

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 10:45 AM | TRIS**

It takes us a little over two hours to reach Eugene, the trip slightly shortened by our playful racing on the way there. Uriah's Camaro has plenty of raw power, but my bike is light and agile as I weave around any traffic in my way. After a stop to an upscale grocery store with a great deli counter and a strange fixation on vegan and organic foods, I follow Uriah to the hiking trail he looked up on his phone, a place called Spencer Butte.

"This is a short hike, less than a mile and a half. But I figured at least it will stretch our legs. We can take the food up to the butte and get our first good view of the majestic Willamette Valley," Uriah informs me with a little wiggle of his eyebrows to go with the dramatic description of our destination.

I sling a canvas tote filled with our deli-counter lunch over my shoulder and let Uriah take my opposite hand, and we start up the trail. "Willamette Valley," I say, testing the name on my tongue and remembering Zeke teaching us to pronounce it correctly. "Portland is in the Willamette Valley too, isn't it?"

"Yep. Almost home."

"Home," I repeat with a smile. "Just when I had really gotten used to that transient lifestyle we were rocking."

"I'll miss it, too," he admits. "But… I doubt we'd enjoy it as much once winter hits."

I wince. "Good point there, we'd have to wander down to Mexico or something."

"And," he admits, "I really do miss my brother. Can't wait to see him."

I just smile at him. Sometimes I'm a little jealous of Uriah's close relationships with Zeke and Hana, and it makes me miss my mom more. But I can immediately counter my longing for a similar connection with my own remaining family when I remind myself of how openly the Pedrads have accepted me into their lives. Hana doesn't make up for losing my mom, but I know how fortunate I am that she has taken to caring for me so much that I almost feel like real family. And I often wonder at how familiar Zeke and I are with one another when we have spent so little time together in person. He's like the fun big brother I never had. I almost snort aloud at the thought, since in reality, I do have a big brother. But after Caleb's little episode tattling on me to Dad, I have all but written my brother off.

As we walk, we swing our joined hands between us, joking around and chatting about our escapades over the past few months and friends we made along the way.

When we first left Chicago, we decided to head west toward Yellowstone National Park, making a few stops in the Badlands on the way. After over a week exploring Yellowstone, we decided to make our way toward the Grand Canyon next, taking plenty of time to get there while we peppered the journey with hikes, rock climbing, swimming and cliff jumping any place that caught our interest. When we stopped at Lake Powell on the way there, we befriended a guy named Brad who was an experienced white water rafter and already preparing to embark on a trip down the Colorado. We had a blast, other than one scary episode where Uriah nearly drowned in the river.

The rest of the trip was spent in California. For the past three weeks, Uriah and I have basically surfed our way up the Pacific coast from San Diego up to the Redwood Forest, with a few days off to visit various theme parks. We spent few days camping and hiking in the Redwood Forest before heading inland to Crater Lake.

We steadily hike toward the summit, a steep hill to our left. "You know," Uriah says, "we could go snowboarding next weekend. There's a glacier up on Mt. Hood, you can board all summer long there." He looks so pleased with himself, the little know-it-all.

"Palmer's Glacier," I say sweetly, and his face falls at his failure to show me up. "I know, isn't that cool? We don't have to wait till nearly Christmas like we did back home."

"I should have known you'd research. Smarty-pants. You're such a Nose sometimes."

I wrinkle my nose. "A what?"

"A geek, like your brother," he says. I mean to scowl at him for comparing me to Caleb, but a sound like snapping branches distracts me from giving him my full attention as he continues, and I see him glance in the direction of the sound, too. "You know, cause he thinks he _knows_ everything, and he's always got his nose in a―"

Uriah is cut off by a high pitched shriek and he whips around and drops my hand just in time to see the blue, orange and black blur tumbling toward him. She would have face planted on the gravelly path had Uriah not caught her.

"Woah, there," Uriah soothes as he pulls her to her feet, "are you okay?"

The girl straightens and I look her over. She appears to be about fifteen years old. She is slender, with carefully applied makeup on her pretty face, big brown eyes, and soft curls in her red hair. She wears short distressed jean shorts and a halter top. On her feet are strappy sandals with raised heels; it's not hard to see why she lost her footing. When she looks up at Uriah, her jaw drops and color floods her cheeks.

"Uh…hi…" she stammers. "I mean yeah, I'm okay. Yeah." She's still gripping his arms and her face has turned bright red.

"Ella?" someone shouts from up the hill. I can hear the rustling bushes as the person tries to carefully climb down.

"'M fine," the girl calls back. Her face is now bright red and she is biting her lip, obviously completely feeling like she made a fool of herself. She's staring at Uriah as if she's starstruck. Understandable; my boyfriend is definitely handsome.

"Ella. That's a pretty name," Uriah says, giving her his signature panty-dropping smile. "It suits you."

Ella opens her mouth and closes it once. "Thank you," she squeaks out. I bite my lip and try to hide my amusement.

"You might want to stick to the paths in those shoes," Uriah points out. "Don't want you getting hurt." The sound of Ella's friend coming through the brush is getting louder. "Do you want us to wait with you until your friend gets here?"

Ella's eyes finally flick to me. I give her a sweet smile and wave my fingers. "Oh, um, no. No, I'm fine. She'll be here in a second. Thank you for catching me."

"Anytime," Uriah says with a wink. I can't completely stifle my laughter this time but Ella doesn't seem to notice and Uriah only glances at me. He steps back from Ella and smiles at me before taking my hand again. We set off again toward the summit and when I glance back I see Ella staring after us.

"So what were you snickering about?" Uriah asks me. I just snort in response, and Uriah raises an eyebrow at me. I shake my head. "C'mon, Tris, tell me," he whines. Suddenly his hands are around my waist and he hauls me over his shoulder in a fireman carry without breaking stride. "I'm not putting you down until you tell me." I can hear the smile in his voice.

"You can't figure it out?" I challenge.

"No." He pauses. "Oh wow, I didn't realize we were this close to the butte."

"I wanna see," I whine. "Come on, just me down and I'll tell you."

"Fine," Uriah says. But he still keeps carrying me until he reaches the spot he has picked out for our picnic, then sets me on a large rock and takes my bag. I sit down as he begins taking the plastic containers of food out. "So what were you laughing at? I didn't know my rescuing a clumsy high schooler would be so amusing."

"Oh, it wasn't the rescue." I grab a container of pasta salad and pry off the lid. "It was everything after it." Uriah's face is blank and I laugh again. "You, Uriah Pedrad, are an incorrigible flirt."

"Me?" he says with mock innocence, a dimple peeking through his attempt to keep a straight face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I just laugh. "Yeah, right," I say with obvious sarcasm.

Uriah grins, then furrows his brow. "Wait. You see me flirting with some girl ― which, by the way, I was just trying to make her feel better. She seemed embarrassed ― and you _laugh_? Aren't you supposed to be mad at me?" I raise my eyebrows and his eyes go wide. "Not that I'm complaining. Don't be mad at me, I didn't even mean to ―"

I cut him off with my laughter and he smiles sheepishly.

When I have managed to stop laughing, I kiss him before explaining. "I trust you I know you don't mean it. You're just being yourself. And I love yourself."

* * *

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 1:15 PM | TRIS**

After an hour and a half of our usual games racing each other through traffic, I fall behind Uriah and follow him to the Southeast Portland apartment we will be living in. The neighborhood is mostly filled with nice little houses built in the first half of the twentieth century, most adorned with beds of wildflowers and homey little touches to make each home unique, and the area is smattered with parks, food co-op grocery stores, and little restaurants, bars and shops. There's a laid back, down-to-earth feel to the whole neighborhood. Finally, we pull into the parking lot of a medium sized two-story apartment building with weathered light brown paint coating its exterior walls.

I have barely dismounted my bike when Zeke comes bounding out of the stairwell. He nearly bowls Uriah over tackling him in a hug, and Uriah laughs and hugs back as I pull off my helmet. Shauna approaches while the brothers are still embracing and I turn away from them to face her.

"You made it! It's so good to see you again, Tris," Shauna smiles. "How was the drive?"

"Good," I answer as I stow my helmet in the compartment under the seat of my bike. "All that driving, I think, is something I won't miss too much." And it's true. I love the adventure but have grown weary of the long drives.

I glance at Uriah and can't help smiling when I see him so happy to be reunited with his brother. "So, how are you managing living with that big lump so far?" I tease.

Shauna laughs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, I imagine living with one Pedrad brother isn't too different from living with the other." With a stage whisper and one hand shielding her mouth from the brothers' view, she adds, "We might need a weekly girls' night to commiserate. You know, like a support group."

"Hey!" Zeke and Uriah both protest in unison. I wink at Uriah and he grins.

"Speaking of roommates," Zeke says, "I don't know what's taking Four so long to come down and meet you."

"I'm starting to wonder if he even exists," Uriah says, quirking one eyebrow. "Maybe he's like that imaginary friend you had back when we were kids… what was his name?" Uriah taps his chin, pretending to think, and Shauna raises her eyebrows in interest.

Zeke gets this sudden stern look on his face. "Don't you dare, little brother," Zeke warns as he lunges forward trying to cover Uriah's mouth with his hand. Uriah jumps back, just out of Zeke's reach.

"Oh, oh, I remember!" Uriah laughs. "We always had to save a seat at the table for Jimothy the Kangaroo, and you used to blame him for messes in your room. And then there was the time―"

Zeke finally manages to grab Uriah and pulls him into a headlock. The brothers play-fight for a minute while Shauna and I shake our heads. Then we look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Should I go kick Four's ass for taking so long?" Shauna suggests, glancing behind me at the apartment building. Uriah pulls his car keys out of his pocket, preparing to open the trunk so we can carry our bags up.

"I don't know, maybe…" Zeke says, then he perks up. "Here he is!"

I turn to look for the stranger we will be sharing an apartment with, but Zeke blocks my view. He goes to Uriah first and just before they shake hands, I see his face and nearly stumble backward in shock. It's like seeing a ghost.

Tobias Eaton is standing in front of me. He looks older, with a little stubble, more defined muscles, and a stance projecting more confidence than I have ever seen in him before, but there is no denying that this is that same boy that shattered my heart when he left me behind.

I must make a sound because suddenly I am aware that everyone is looking at me. But I only see Tobias. His jaw goes slack, his eyes as round as saucers, and I focus on that little patch of light blue in the corner of his left iris. He is statue still for a moment before he exhales my name, so quiet I can barely hear it.

I don't answer, I just stare at him. _Why is he here? Why is he here?!_ I can't think, I don't know what to feel. It's a tornado of anger and fear and love and resentment and guilt, and so much pain that I had locked away.

 _This was supposed to be my new start._

 _My past doesn't belong here._

Panic begins to drown out everything else and I can't stay here. I can't stay here with _him_ , I can't think. The air around me suddenly feels so heavy and everyone is staring at me, and I can't do this right now.

So I run.

* * *

I have no idea how far I am from the apartment when I stop in a park. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going, and I have no idea how to get back. I'll figure it out later. I'm not ready to go back there yet anyway. I sit in the shade of a tree, leaning against its trunk.

I almost felt trapped back there with all of them staring at me. The run both calmed my anxiety and let me feel free again. And while I ran, my mind was blank, but now I feel as though my head is beginning to clear.

Tobias is here. In Portland. Living in my apartment.

This is not what I signed up for.

Seeing him there in front of me brought all the rejection and loneliness I felt two years ago, back to the surface. It wasn't fair. I trusted him, I depended on him, I loved him and he said he loved me. And he just left me behind. I wanted to leave those memories behind in Chicago.

But now I can't block those memories any longer, they won't leave me alone. Snippets of the past four years flash through my mind.

I remember Tobias inviting me to Navy Pier for the first time. It was a few weeks before my fifteenth birthday; we had met at some schmoozy party of my dad's that summer, and after that seemed to just keep running into one another ― at the local pizza parlor, or walking the mall, one time I got hit by a football he and his friends were tossing around in the park. I hadn't expected him to pay me any attention when we'd run into each other in the halls at school, but he did, and he invited me along on sort of a group date with a bunch of upperclassmen. Honestly I couldn't even believe he was speaking to me; I certainly never expected him to invite me out.

Nor did I ever imagine he would face his fears to give me the ferris wheel ride I wanted, or that he would kiss me that night.

I remember how gentle he was our first time together and how special I felt when he would hold me.

I think of how he comforted me after I broke down one night when I was feeling particularly worthless after a few of my dad's scathing comments. He made me tell him every single thing Dad said to me and, comment after nasty comment, argued against every negative opinion of myself that Dad had reinforced. He told me that Dad must be a fool not to see how special I am.

But then he left me, and I realized the truth. Empty words, nothing but empty words. His "love" meant nothing.

I relive sleepless nights curled up in my bed, so lonely, so alone. All I wanted, all I wished for, was for Tobias to come back and be there with me, tell me it was all going to work out and everything would be okay.

I remember the phone calls I received from him. Calls that both ripped open partially healed wounds, and left Uriah preoccupied for days after.

I hear Marcus's insults and threats echoing through my head.

I wanted this to be over.

I can't do this. I can't live with Tobias. Even the thought of just running into him sometimes because he's friends with Zeke twists my stomach. There's got to be somewhere else we can live. Zeke must know someone else with a spare room or something. And if we just really put our minds to it I'm sure we can get jobs right away and maybe we can find a good deal on an apartment somewhere, just us. I can work two jobs or something. But I won't go back to Chicago and I can't live with Four.

I don't flinch when Uriah sits down beside me; I knew he'd find me soon and was listening for him. I don't even say hello.

No, I get straight to the point.

I take a deep breath. "We can't live there. We need to find our own place."

* * *

 _A/N: I managed to have this one ready before my vacation, but I won't be able to update the next one so quickly. You'll have to wait a couple weeks to see what's been going on after Tris left the guys and Shauna at the apartment!_


	28. Ch 28: Past, Meet Present

**Chapter 28  
** _ **Past, Meet Present**_

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 1:25 PM | ZEKE**

"What the fuck just happened?" I say after Tris has disappeared around the corner. Everyone slowly turns to look at me.

The meeting between Uriah, Tris and my best buddy Four was not at all what I expected. At first everything seemed totally normal. But then while Four and Uriah were starting to shake hands Tris made this weird sort of gasping noise and… I don't even know. Tris was pale and she and Four just stared at each other, and then he said something really quiet, and it was like we were all holding our breath even though I had no idea why. Then she just turned tail and ran away.

I look at my brother and Four before I share a look with Shauna. She's as clueless as I am. Four is as stone-faced as I've ever seen him, giving me nothing, and Uriah is scrutinizing him with the tip of his tongue poking out the side of his mouth and his forehead all wrinkled. I can see it the moment Uriah figures out what's going on, I've never seen his eyes so hard, but I'm just as lost as ever.

"Uriah?" Shauna prods. "What's going on?"

Uriah doesn't stop glaring at Four but he finally does answer. "Why don't ask _him_?" he spits, gesturing at Four. But Four, of course, stays silent. I look back at Uriah.

Uriah scoffs. "Fine. Guess I will, then. He's Tris's ex. I've seen a photo before, and he called her Beatrice. No one calls her Beatrice any more. He disappeared on her two years ago. Didn't even say goodbye."

I narrow my eyes at Four. Why would he just leave her like that? And with her mom sick, no less. They're both great people, I'm sure of that, so what could have made Four leave like that?

Four's impassive expression finally breaks. "She told you?"

"Of course she did!" Uriah snaps. " _We_ don't keep secrets from each other. Who do you think picked up the pieces?" Four flinches at that. Uriah's teeth are gritted and his arms are stiff and straight at his sides, with his hands balled in fists. He steps closer to Four and his stance is so threatening that Shauna steps back from them.

For a second I think Uriah is going to take a swing at Four. Instead, Uri glances behind him and his shoulders sag. "Look, I've gotta go after Tris." He digs in his pocket for his keys.

"I'll help look," Four offers, immediately earning another glare from Uriah.

"I think you've done enough," Uriah spits. He looks at me. "Zeke, make sure he doesn't go anywhere. He would only make things worse."

"Take my car," Shauna offers, tossing her keys to Uriah. He catches them easily. "I'll keep Four in line. Give us your keys and we'll unload the car for you." Uriah hands me his keys and, with quick nod and word of thanks, Uriah jogs to Shauna's car.

As soon as Uriah pulls away from the curb, I raise my eyebrows at Four. "Care to explain?" Four looks away, scratching the back of his neck, and I can see we'll have to drag it out of him. Typical Four. "So, you and Tris used to go out?" Four nods, staring at Tris's motorcycle, probably just so he can avoid looking me in the eye. "And she was called Beatrice?" I can't help the hint of laughter when I say her name.

"Yes," he says, finally looking at me. Well, more like glaring at me. "What's wrong with 'Beatrice'?"

"It just… really doesn't suit her," Shauna says. I'd almost forgotten she was there.

"It suited her just fine," Four growls defensively. Shauna holds her palms out in front of her in a universal "calm down" gesture.

"I had forgotten that was her real name. By the time I met her in person, she was going by 'Tris'."

"And when was that?" Four asks.

"When Dad died. September 2014." Thinking about the circumstances of my first meeting with Tris makes a lump start to swell up in my throat. "I knew he'd be okay, when I left, because he had her."

"So they were…"

"Best friends. They weren't together yet, really. Well, although―"

"We're getting off track. Didn't Tris grow up in Chicago? I thought you told us you were from Albuquerque, Four?" Shauna interrupts, giving Four the bitch brow. I pout at her. I would have really enjoyed making Four uncomfortable by recounting the morning after Dad's funeral. I don't know exactly when he left her but it couldn't have been long before she met Uriah, and I know it would piss him off. And he deserves it. Tris is like the little sister I never had and she didn't deserve to be abandoned like that.

"I said I moved here from Albuquerque, not that I was originally from there," Four says. "I ended up in Albuquerque when my car broke down and met Amar there."

"So you're actually from Chicago?" I ask. Four nods. This whole time, Four was from the same place as me and I never had any idea. He never said a word about it in all the times I would describe the city to give background for a story, or anything.

"So you and Tris were, what, high school sweethearts?" Shauna asks.

Four lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Something like that. Are we gonna unload Uriah's car or what?"

Without waiting for an answer Four snatches the keys out of my hand and goes to start grabbing bags from the trunk. Shauna and have a conversation with our eyes and I know she's telling me to drop it, that we won't get anything else out of him. Not today, at least. Maybe sometime soon I can get him drunk enough to spill a little more, but not tonight. So we wordlessly agree to let him be and I begin to untie the surf- and snowboards from the top of the car.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 2:15 PM | URIAH**

I didn't notice Tris under the tree the first time I passed this park. I almost missed her the second time, too; I had been about to call Zeke and see if she had come back on her own, afraid I'd have to widen my radius because she could have run pretty far by then. She was half hidden by the tree she was leaning against when I finally spotted her.

There is no parking lot, so I creep down the block until I find an open space along the curb to parallel park. Locking the door and pocketing Shauna's keys, I walk the half-block to the park entrance at a quick pace, any faster and it would be considered a jog. But for as much of a hurry as I was in on my way there, as soon as Tris comes into view, I hesitate. I don't know if I'm ready to hear what she's thinking just yet.

It never occurred to me that by coming here with her, I could bring her right back to Tobias ― just the opposite, in fact. It was one of the reasons I came up with the idea of leaving Chicago. I'd wanted to be sure she never saw that asshole again. Why that mattered so much ― well, that's something I've never really let myself think too much about.

I think back to that night at the bonfire, the day after Dad's funeral. Tris and I had slept together for the first time the night before. I had thought about kissing her lots of times before that night, but I always settled for hugging her. She was my best friend, she understood me like no one else, and I needed her. Especially then. I could screw everything up, and I didn't want to lose her. _Couldn't_ lose her. But after the funeral we were drunk, and grieving and it just… happened. As soon as Zeke teased me at the breakfast table, I remembered it all and I realized that I'd blown all those efforts to hell.

She avoided me. Even through our texts everything was weird. When I found her at the bonfire, she was crying over a box full of her memories of _him_.

I knew she wasn't over him, and I could understand it. We'd talked about it lots of times ― I meant it when I told Four that I was the one who picked up the pieces. He really hurt her when he left. She had thought they were so happy, she loved him and thought he loved her, too. She couldn't understand the choices Tobias had made, and I never even tried to. I hated him for making her feel so small, making her question whether it was her fault, making her think she wasn't good enough. Still do.

Eventually she just hated him. But even then I was always afraid that she still loved Tobias. It's like they say ― there's a thin line between love and hate. But Tobias wasn't there, and I was. And as long as it stayed that way, it didn't matter if she still loved him. Of course I know that she loves me, too. But it's something I never wanted to have to compete for.

But Tobias is here now.

I take a deep breath to steel myself and finally walk purposefully across the grass with confidence that's all for show. Tris doesn't react when I sit down next to her. She must have been waiting for me. Of course she was; she knows I'd never abandon her like _he_ did.

She doesn't wait for me to speak. Tris takes such a deep breath that I'm half expecting some long speech, but she just says, "We can't live there. We need to find our own place."

I stare at her and run her words through my mind. And her idea is appealing, more than appealing. I know we can't totally avoid Tobias ― _Four_ , as he's calling himself these days (how the hell did he even come up with that name?) It's inevitable. He's my brother's best friend. But living with my girlfriend and her ex would be a bad situation no matter how their relationship had ended.

But…

I take Tris's hand in mine. "I get where you're coming from, Tris, I really do. But I don't think that's an option right now. No one is going to rent to us, we don't even have jobs. And even if we did, I'm not sure if we'd have enough cash for a deposit."

"But Zeke must know someone else, there's got to be some other choice. Or ― or we could camp out somewhere till we have jobs and all that. We can―"

"Tris," I say. "We need to set up our lives here, and it would be hard to do that while camping in some forest somewhere. I don't think we can back out of this arrangement that easily right now." Her eyes are glossy and refuse to meet mine. I squeeze her hand. "Tris, I want to. I do. But we can't. Maybe in a few months, yeah? Can you hang in there for a few months? Just try and avoid him or something?" Tris reluctantly nods.

Tris leans her head back against the tree trunk while I pull out my phone, quickly texting my brother to let him know that I found her. I slip my phone back into my pocket. Tris is still leaning back against the tree, now with her eyes closed, and I relax against it as well.

I enjoyed the past few months even more than I thought I would ― just being with Tris, no real plans, no responsibilities to anyone but ourselves, set apart from the rest of the world in so many ways. This, starting a new life in a new place, it was supposed to be a new, fun adventure. Tris is as important and permanent in my life as my own family. I didn't know what it would be like living with this stranger, but at least I thought he was just that ― a stranger, no history casting a shadow over us.

First we would find jobs, doing what, I really don't know. Just something to get us by at first, I guess. A career could come later, as neither of us quite know what we want to do for the rest of our lives, or even if we'll want to stay here in Oregon for good. I have missed my brother, but I always cared more about being with Tris than anything else. I thought maybe we'd take some classes, see what we like to do. I know Tris doesn't want a mountain of student loans, and she isn't quite sure what interests her, but she's so smart. She could do anything. Not like me ― I'm not stupid, but I'm certainly not brilliant like Tris, either. Maybe I'll go for a degree, maybe I'll learn a trade. I don't have anything nailed down yet and I've always liked it that way. I'm barely 18 years old, there's no rush. I know what's important to me and that always comes first.

I figured we'd spend our weekends exploring our new home. Oregon has plenty to see: forests, mountains, deserts, ocean… We've still got a whole coastline to surf, caves to explore. Rocks to climb and trails to hike. New cliffs to jump and slopes to snowboard.

But just seeing Tobias's face has sent Tris into a tailspin. And I am trying desperately not to think too hard about what feelings could be at the root of that reaction. It's a situation I never thought we'd deal with. Certainly not here.

"I think I'll head out tomorrow morning to look for a job," Tris says, startling me. We've been sitting here surrounded by dead air for a while now. "Maybe try some of the shops around the neighborhood. Or maybe a restaurant, so I'd earn tips, too."

I smile. "Thought maybe you'd go for another pizza delivery job," I tease.

Tris reacts with something between a laugh and a snort. "I wanted to get away from my old life, not jump right back into it." Her smile wavers and becomes more forced.

"You alright, Tris?" I ask.

She hesitates then says, "Yeah. I'm fine. Just ready to get settled, I guess."

My stomach flips. I know she's putting on a front, and it's been such a long time since Tris has done that with me that I don't push it. Even though we usually don't keep things from one another, I'm not sure I want to know. It's not like I've shared with her all my worries about this situation.

"How about you?" she asks. "Any ideas where you'll apply for a job?"

I shrug. "I was more worried about finding you. I didn't really take a good look at the possibilities. I don't know, I guess I'll just wander around tomorrow. Pick some things that seem like they'd have flexible hours. I still want to sign up for classes before they start in September."

"Yeah, me too. Just part time, though. I want to be able to work enough to build my savings back up."

She doesn't need to say why. I just hope that by the time we have enough money saved up, she still wants to move out with me.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you so much for the awesome response to the last few chapters! I'm back from vacation, but it's still a busy time of year so it might be a little longer wait for an update once again._

 _Hope you enjoyed hearing from the Pedrads. I was going to put some of Four's POV in here too but decided he needed his own chapter, so that will be coming up next._


	29. Ch 29: Distracted

_A/N: Happy Christmas! My gift to you is another chapter. This month has been even more chaotic than I had anticipated, but I still managed to write a little. Reviews would make lovely Christmas presents… (hint hint)_

* * *

 **Chapter 29  
** _ **Distracted**_

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 4:45 PM | FOUR**

I pull my membership card from my wallet before entering the gym, hoping to get through the lobby unseen. When I see Lauren working the front desk, I know I'll be unsuccessful. I head straight for the scanner anyway silently praying that she will sense my mood and leave me alone. But I knew it was too much to ask.

"Hi, Four!" she chirps.

I plaster on a fake smile. "Hi, Lauren." The screen flashes green and I quickly slide the card back into my wallet.

Lauren catches me before I manage to take a single step toward the locker room. "What are you up to this weekend?" she asks, a bright smile on her face.

"Just…" I wave vaguely toward the weight room. "This. Studying." I sigh. "New roommates."

"Oh, that's nice. I can get you a couple extra guest passes if you want to bring them in sometime."

"That won't be necessary," I say, shaking my head. If they want to try the gym, Zeke can bring them. But if they join this gym I may need to find a new one. I'll need somewhere to get away from seeing my Beatrice with another guy.

"What are you doing tonight?" Lauren asks. "A friend of mine is having this party up in St. John's. You should come."

"I need to study for finals. Maybe some other time."

"Oh come on, you still have tomorrow to study. A party would be good stress relief."

I cringe remembering that the last time someone talked me into their version of "stress relief" ― just last night ― Shauna found the evidence in my couch. Which isn't just _my_ couch any more. I don't know why I let Zeke talk me into that. It really didn't help anything.

"I really can't put it off any more. Thanks anyway."

"But―"

"Bye, Lauren." She pouts as I walk away without sparing a glance back at her.

I stow my gym bag in my locker and stoop to tie my shoelace. Zeke and Shauna left the apartment just before I did, to meet up with Uriah and Beatrice for dinner. Zeke looked torn, hesitating like he felt like he should say something and I suspect he felt as though he should be inviting me to come with them. Shauna seemed to know better and was looking at him warily. I solved the awkward situation in telling them to have fun, that I needed to go to the gym. And it wasn't a lie.

My stomach was churning the more time went on without word from Uriah. It had been over an hour since Beatrice ran off before Zeke heard from his brother, just a simple message that he was with Tris and she was fine. They must not have been in any hurry to come back to the apartment, though, because more than an hour passed before Zeke and Shauna announced their plans for the evening. And that whole time, my mind was racing and swirling with fragments of thoughts that I couldn't even fully identify, other than an awareness that all of them centered around the same person.

I shake my head. I'm caught in the same loop again, this is exactly why I came here. Nothing clears my head like a nice long session with a punching bag.

I find an unoccupied bag and wrap my hands with tape. When I saw her out there in her leather jacket and blue-streaked hair, standing next to a motorcycle, never in a million years would I have guessed that the woman I was checking out could be Beatrice Prior. If I hadn't seen her face with my own eyes I never would have believed it. Even then I'm not sure I would have, had it not clear by her reaction that she knew me. But I was hit with a longing for her anyway.

Every attempt I made at contact in those months after I ran away, every rejection, was a punch in the gut stronger than any I endured in the arena. I had finally learned not to think of her so often. I've never met another girl like my Beatrice. Sure, I have made plenty of attempts to forget her completely, but I've always missed her. But that girl… that girl that was standing by the motorcycle. I don't know who that is. Zeke has told so many stories about his little brother Uriah and his girlfriend Tris. Stories that make me cringe at their recklessness, make me wonder how this girl's parents put up with her antics, stories that have made me wary of agreeing to have them as roommates. Beatrice was so smart, a good girl, always trying to please her parents and everyone else, putting others before herself. She wasn't a risk taker. How can someone change so much in such a short time?

This Tris, though. She's flighty and rebellious and reckless. She has finished high school but instead of continuing on to college, like I always knew Beatrice would, she's moved far away from home with ― with some guy! _My_ Beatrice wouldn't have left her family like that. If I thought there was any possibility she would maybe I would have asked her to come with me. Who the hell is she and what did she do with my Beatrice?

How can a person change so much in such a short time?

It has to be Uriah's fault. I growl at the thought and the punching back swings back with so much momentum from my hit that I barely dodge out of its way before I stand back for a minute and catch my breath.

Beatrice was perfect just as she was and somehow, he's changed her.

I hate him for it. Hate him for the fact that I don't even know her any more. Hate him just for being with her while she still holds my heart. But she doesn't, does she? Because this isn't Beatrice.

I want to hate him.

I can't hate him.

Because I was the one who hurt her, not him. I could see how angry he was when he put the pieces together, and all he wanted was to protect her.

I was supposed to be the one to love her and protect her, and I've never stopped wishing I could have been. I never wanted to leave her. But I had to, because of Marcus. I got away from him, but he's still managing to hurt me even now.

And how long before more details of my past come out? So much for the anonymity I so carefully protected ever since I left Chicago, never opening up to even my best friend, always hiding my night terrors, always remaining even more self-possessed and carefully detached than I was even through my teenage years. My punches fly harder and faster. Beatrice's arrival here has stolen that from me. And with her and Uriah living with me, I'll have no escape. She knows too much about me. But she doesn't know what Marcus did to me and I don't care if I should tell her, that is one secret I will keep.

Panting, I step back from the bag and gulp down a full bottle of water in one go. I've hardly been at this twenty minutes rather than my usual hour or more but I am exhausted. The t-shirt I always wear to cover my scarred back is sticks to my skin. I know I'm done for the day, far too early, and instead of clearing my head all I've done is think about Beatrice.

Frustrated, I grab my stuff and head back to the locker room.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, AUGUST 14, 2016 | 8:50 PM | FOUR**

As soon as I got home with my Chinese takeout, I immediately closed myself off in my room. I spent the next three hours studying, though I could hardly tell you what subjects I was working on. I was too busy dreading Beatrice's return. Because I knew that when she got home, I might have to face her and I am just not ready for that right now. I felt mixed up enough as it was and I just needed to study for my upcoming final exams.

As it got later, I was anxious for her to get back. I mean, how long does dinner take? It had been several hours, what were they even doing? Maybe they went over to see Zeke and Shauna's place. But that seems odd when they haven't even stepped foot inside their own apartment yet.

I couldn't seem to make up my mind, whether I dreaded or anticipated their arrival.

Now, after three hours of waiting, I finally hear the front door open. I freeze in my desk chair, mid-spin, and though I have to remind myself to breathe, and I feel my stomach churn (dread, I decide, not anticipation), I can clearly hear their voices and footsteps as they look around the apartment.

I hear Beatrice comment on the wood floors, then her laughter at Uriah's joke about the cartoon of a surfing hedgehog that Zeke drew, rather terribly, on the whiteboard. The sound of them moving around the kitchen. A can being opened- beer or soda, I'm not sure which. About five minutes pass before they even go to check out their new bedroom. One of them must jump onto the mattress because I hear it squeak. I groan out loud and scrub my hands over my face, remembering the thin walls being the reason for Zeke and Shauna usually staying over at her place. As if this situation wasn't awkward enough.

I turn back to my engineering textbook. Electrical Circuit Analysis is the last course I need to complete for admittance to the upper division Electrical & Computer Engineering program. I wouldn't call this course easy, but I have done well on my tests and assignments so far. It's a good thing, because my concentration has been somewhat lacking all evening.

Giggles and playful teasing filter in as I study. Despite her initial reaction to seeing me, it seems "Tris" is now unphased by having seen me. I feel stupid for sitting here brooding over her all night. Not that I can help it. When I hear them have a sickeningly flirty argument about which of them is "Schmoopy", I finally get up to look for ear plugs. I bought a few pairs very soon after moving in here ― for all his goofiness, the ladies love Zeke, so he brought his fair share of girls home before he started dating Shauna ― but I haven't needed to use them in a while and now I can't remember where I put them.

I finally locate them back in the top drawer of my desk. I pause with them in my hand when I hear the tone of Uriah's voice change from jovial and teasing to soft and gentle.

"You okay, Tris?" Uriah asks. After a pause, "I can see it in your eyes. Something's bothering you."

I shake my head thinking of all the times I pried retellings of Andrew's worse moments out of her. I would be tempted to keep listening for another few minutes if I didn't remember the considerable patience it always took for her to come out with it.

I've got an earplug in one ear when I hear her answer. Only about thirty seconds have passed. Uriah's voice echoes in my mind: _We don't keep secrets from each other._

With one ear plugged, I have to strain to hear her answer. "I'm sorry," she says. "I ― when I saw Tobias, the way I ― it couldn't have been easy for you."

"It's ― it's how I would expect you to react, I guess. Not that I ever expected to run into him. Wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it's okay, Tris. You know you don't have to hide from me. I love you, Tris."

"I know." I can barely make her words out, but I can picture her biting her lip. "I love you, too."

A heaviness buzzes in my chest. I quickly put the earplug in my other ear, cursing myself for not doing so sooner, and their quiet conversation is drowned out completely.


	30. Ch 30: Invitations

**Chapter 30  
** _ **Invitations**_

 **WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 17, 2016 | 7:15 PM | URIAH**

Zeke and Shauna are at our apartment when Tris and I get back from a great day of exploring. Tris carries in the flat of berries we picked while I carry an extra-large pizza in one hand and a bag of liquor in the other.

"About time you two got back!" Zeke calls out. "I was starting to think I wouldn't be able to stall long enough and would go home sad and hungry. Four looked about ready to kick us out."

"Shauna could've stayed," Four interjects. "But I'm sick of entertaining you, Zeke. It's like having a five-year-old around." He nods hello to Tris and me.

"How was Sauvie Island?" Zeke asks with a smirk, ignoring Four's attempted insult.

Tris narrows her eyes at Zeke and I'm already trying to hold back laughter. "I think you can guess," she accuses, "given that you were the one that told us to go to Collins Beach. To top it off, I was texting _you_ back and didn't even see what I was stumbling into!"

I can't hold it in any more and I laugh so hard that I double over on myself and I can't breathe. Across from me, Zeke is in the same state, and Tris trying to glare at us both but I can see the hint of a smile in the way one corner of her mouth lifts.

Shauna smacks Zeke's arm hard enough to make him wince and shrieks, "You told them to go _where_?!"

Four, who is leaning against the kitchen bar with a slice of pizza, watches us all, shaking his head. I pretend not to notice that his eyes are on Tris. His eyes, whenever he thinks no one is looking, are always on Tris.

"So, we're on the island, right after a killer bike ride up to the Troll Bridge―"

"What's the Troll Bridge?" Shauna asks.

"How do we know this and you don't?" Tris scoffs. "We've been here three days. Haven't you lived here, like, your whole life?" Shauna flips her off and Tris sticks her tongue out at her in return. "It's this old train tressel, and people have literally made it into a troll bridge."

"It's got those little toy trolls with the bright colored hair stuck all over it," I add. "Don't take Zeke there, he'd have nightmares for weeks."

Zeke kicks me under the table. "Shut up. I was eight. _Ernest Scared Stupid_ was a very scary movie for such a young boy with such a brilliant imagination." Even Four is laughing now, though he stays leaning against the bar, separate from the rest of us. "And I was over it after a couple weeks."

"It was months!" I laugh. "Months of fun leaving those troll dolls in all kinds of random places, just to hear you scream like a little girl when you ran across them."

"Careful, little brother. I don't think you'd want me to tell them all about the Tooth Fairy." Tris doubles over now, already knowing that embarrassing story, thanks to Mom.

"Or Spot, the Target mascot." I know that's what Tris is saying, and I am glad that Zeke is probably the only one to decipher it through her laughter. Zeke and Tris high five. I had better move on with this story before they can come up with more embarrassing tidbits.

"Anyway, great bike ride, fun with trolls. It's like 95 degrees out and a swim is sounding really good, so we head up to the beach my oh-so-loving brother recommended. And of course Tris has a bunch of texts and when she answers them she chats it up with my brother and is too busy to notice the 'Clothing Optional' sign." Shauna laughs and nods when I mention Tris being distracted by Zeke; somehow, Tris and my brother hit it off right away and he took her in as a little sister. He banters with and teases Tris almost as much as he does me, and she throws it all right back at him every time.

"I knew it! You knew it was a nude beach!" Tris shrieks, jumping to her feet and pointing a finger at me.

"Not till we got there," I protest. "And you were so distracted with your little text-off with my brother, I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice. I even timed you." Tris scowls at me and drops back into her chair.

"So, how long did it take?" Shauna asks.

"Two minutes and thirteen seconds. And then," I laugh at Tris. "Then she finally puts the phone in her bag, looks up and sees a naked couple laid out on the sand, and she literally stumbles backwards and trips and falls right on top of a nude sunbather."

"How did she react to that?" Shauna asks.

"Oh, _he_ didn't mind at all," I choke out. "That much was clear. You know, given that there was nothing to hide his _situation_."

Tris is flushed bright red now with a look of complete mortification on her face. Zeke points at her. "I haven't seen that look on your face since I caught you mid- 'walk of shame,' Tris," he howls. Tris covers her face with her hands.

"I've gotta study," Four mutters and stalks off to his room, shutting the door loudly.

Zeke feigns innocence. "Was it something I said?"

"Let's never speak of that morning again please, Zeke," Tris mumbles. "Anyway, the story gets better."

"There's more?!" Shauna gasps, wiping tears of laughter from around her eyes.

"Oh yes," Tris says. "You see, on the way there, Uriah of course was in the left lane on the freeway when he needed the right, darted across four lanes of traffic, and cut this guy off. The guy blares on his horn and is yelling and waving his fist around and what does Uriah do?"

"Flashes him the peace sign!" Zeke calls out, as if there will be a prize for knowing the correct answer. I grin and nod. That's been my way of handling other drivers' road rage since I first started learning to drive. "Always pisses them off even more but it's hard to argue that the person might not have just been apologizing."

"Okay… so, what does that have to do with the beach."

"Well," I answer, "it happened to be the same guy that Tris tripped on."

"Oh no."

"Oh, yes," Tris says. "He didn't recognize me at first, but he sure recognized Uriah."

"Narrowly avoided a fist fight with a naked man with his little soldier standing at attention."

We continue our banter and soon Tris gets up to make some stiff drinks, bringing a bottle of rum and a two-liter of coke back to the table with her for refills. I watch her out of the corner of my eye the whole time. There was a reason I insisted we took a break from our (so far unsuccessful) job searches to go find some adventure today, and as we settle back into our new normal of spending some time at home, I can see reality coming back to her and sadness tightening its grip.

"What are you two up to this weekend?" Zeke asks. I think he may be noticing her falling mood too, probably even realizes why, and is trying to draw her back into the conversation, so I wait for Tris to answer.

Tris shrugs. "Not sure yet," she says, glancing at me for confirmation.

"Actually," I say, "there was someplace I wanted to take you on Saturday." A hint of relief flickers across her face just as Zeke starts whining.

"But I wanted to have a party on Saturday!" Zeke complains. "To welcome you guys to Portland!"

"Guess you'll have to make it Friday, then," I say firmly. Tris can probably handle it on Friday. There's no way I'm letting her agree to something like that this Saturday. Zeke means well, but I know Tris far better than he does.

"But―"

"Zeke. If you have the party on Saturday, we won't be there."

"Fine," he pouts just as we hear a knock at the front door.

I motion Tris to sit when she begins to get up, and I head for the door in her place. I swing open the door to find a girl standing there, tapping the doorframe with her long, manicured nails. She's pretty, with long brown hair and tan skin. There isn't a hair out of place, and face is all made up in a way that I know takes Tris an hour in front of the mirror and probably the help of a girlfriend to pull off. (Not that Tris needs it. I like it better when she looks like herself.) The girl is wearing a really short dress. She looks like she's on her way to a club or something.

"Hi," she says with a sweet smile, looking me up and down and twirling a finger in her hair. She seems nice. "Is Four here?"

"Yeah," I say. I'm not sure if I should let her in, so I glance toward Four's bedroom door and yell for him at the top of my lungs.

"I'm Nita," she says. She has a nice smile.

"Uriah," I say. I reach out my hand and she shakes it. Her grip is pathetic, too dainty and weak. "I'm Four's new roommate." I look her up and down one more time and smile. "I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." I let her in and close the door, but don't go any further into the apartment. After all, I really don't know Nita.

"Well," she says, her voice getting lower than before. "It's very nice to meet you."

Shauna sighs behind me. "I'll get Four. He must not have heard you. Usually wears earplugs when he studies, the walls are thin."

Nita looks around the room and her eyes fall on Zeke and Tris sitting at the table. Tris as looking at her critically. "Oh, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything. It looks like you have guests."

"Oh, no, you're not interrupting us," I smile at her. If this girl might distract Four from my girlfriend ― and she definitely looks like she could be a good distraction ― then she's good in my books. "Tris is my girlfriend, she lives here. And that's my brother, Zeke."

"We've met," Zeke calls out and waves at Nita.

"Oh, right!" Nita says, her face bright. "You were at that party last weekend."

"I sure was," Zeke snickers.

Four follows Shauna out from the hallway and I hear him groan, and not in a good way, when he comes to the door. Probably doesn't want Tris to see him with another girl, which is stupid, because she's with me. I go back to the table and sit by Tris but keep my attention on the pair.

"Hi, Four," Nita croons. "I had hoped I'd hear from you by now, but…" She shrugs.

"What do you want, Nita?" Four's voice is flat. Four isn't the most personable guy I've ever met.

"Can we talk…" she looks the rest of us over quickly and runs her finger across Four's arm "...in private?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Nita." Four glances at the rest of us. "We can talk right here."

"Alright," Nita says with a glint in her eye. "Well, as I said, I had hoped I'd hear from you since I didn't get your number before I left the other morning. But it seems I was so hungover that I left without my bra. And you know, while I couldn't blame you if you had been keeping it as a souvenir of our night together, it's a really expensive bra and I can't just leave it and―"

Tris and Shauna are rolling their eyes while Zeke laughs so hard he can't get any sound out.

"Uh, yeah," Four interrupts, looking like he just wants the ground below him to open up and swallow him whole. "I'll, uh, I'll go get that. Wait here."

"Thank you!" Nita calls after him. "So," she says once Four has scurried off to his bedroom. "Trish, was it?"

"Tris," Tris says, emphasizing the 's' at the end.

Nita looks her up and down and smirks. "Lazy night in, I take it. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't. But we're from Chicago."

"Followed your boyfriend all the way across the country, did you."

"Something like that," Tris says. She throws back the rest of her drink and stands. "I'm sick of feeling sticky. I'm going to go take a shower," she tells me.

Nita chuckles. "Oh, honey, it's going to take more than a shower."

I don't pay much attention to Nita, noticing instead that Shauna looks like she wants to slap her. She looks really mad, and I don't know why she would be mad about a girl coming to see Four. It doesn't seem right and makes me a little worried. Why do girls like Four so much? What if Shauna likes him? I can't lose Tris and Zeke can't lose Shauna.

"Nita, you should come to Zeke's party this weekend," I suggest. Then Four will have someone and not spend the whole time staring at Tris.

"Oh yes. Yes, you should," Zeke says just as Four comes out with his usual scowl and a lacy black bra in hand. Guess Zeke is thinking the same as me.

"Should what?" Four asks.

"Come to the party on Friday."

"What party?"

Zeke rolls his eyes. "The welcome party for your new roommates. I told you about it."

"No, you didn't."

"I didn't? Oh, well, party at my place on Friday. Eight o'clock. Bring Nita."

"I'd love to!" Nita gushes, hanging on Four's arm. "Pick me up at 7:45. Oh, wait, I need your number so I can text you my address. You have mine, right?"

While Four and Nita work out the phone number thing (apparently Zeke erased her number to draw that surfing hedgehog on the whiteboard), I watch Shauna. She has a sour look on her face the whole time and keeps glaring as she watches Nita stand close to Four and demand he text her. When Nita leaves, Four stomps off back to his room and shuts the door without saying anything else to us.

* * *

Tris is laying on the bed facing away from the door, her wet hair fanned out on the pillow behind her. "Tris?" I say quietly, not wanting to wake her if she has fallen asleep.

"Mmhmm," she hums without turning over. Her voice is shaky and I immediately know she has been crying. I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed behind her, lying with my chest to her back and wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Wanna talk about it?" I murmur into her neck.

I have expected this all day. Last year, I wasn't quite prepared. I expected the anniversary of Natalie's death to be hard for Tris, just as I knew my dad's would be for me. I had already spent a couple of weeks thinking up options to distract her, because I had learned long before that distraction is the best way to keep Tris from completely sinking herself.

I figured that Natalie would be on Tris's mind even more than usual in the days leading up to it. But I hadn't expected that three days before the anniversary, I would spend more than an hour coaxing her out of bed. It was two o'clock in the afternoon by the time I succeeded.

It wasn't until I reacted similarly nearly a week before the one-year anniversary of my Dad's last breath that I understood. When it hit me that it had been one year since Dad was moved to home hospice, the grief hit me full force. And that's when I understood what had happened to Tris a few weeks before. Because Natalie had been in a coma for three days before she passed, and Tris was remembering that last day with her. Their last conversations, the last kiss to Tris's forehead, the last time that she cuddled up next to her mom and felt Natalie's love returned to her. She never talks about that day ― one of the few things she doesn't openly speak about ― but I can put two and two together.

I wait quietly with my lips against the crook of her neck, my fingers tangled in hers with our arms against her stomach and my thumb drawing circles on her hand. We've laid together like this many times before, even sometimes when we were just friends. It always calms her, and facing away from me, it is easier for her to talk about the hard stuff.

After a minute she says, "I'm just thinking about my last day with Mom. We talked all day, about everything."

To my surprise, she starts telling me everything she remembers about that conversation. All the stories she told her mom, the joy on Natalie's face as she listened to Tris's tales of all our fun over the previous few weeks. How it felt amazing and terrible all at once to talk about Tobias. Tris had never felt closer to her mother, and the next day, she lost it all, all at once.

"Do you think she would be proud of me?" Tris asks me in such a small voice.

I kiss her shoulder. "I know she would. So proud, Tris. I wish you could tell her about every single amazing thing you have done, and I am positive that she would have loved to hear all of it. Well, almost all. There are probably a few moments that could have been strategically edited." Tris's body shakes against mine as she chuckles.

"How can you be sure? I mean, my dad certainly isn't proud at all. Hell, he wants to have me committed."

"Tris," I say, "your mom loved you. _You_ , who you are deep inside. The thing is, your dad only sees one right path. He doesn't see that not everyone has the same interests and passions and that there is more than one way, and that's just stupid. But your mom knew the real you and she saw that you were meant for more than that. She even said so. So, you shouldn't ever worry for even a second, that your mom would be anything but proud."

For a few minutes I just hold her and listen to her breathe, much more steady than before.

"What did she say to you, that night?" Tris whispers. I can tell she's near sleep now.

I take a deep breath and let it slowly out. "She asked me to look after you, and I promised that I would. And I meant it. Because I love you, Tris. I think I have just about from the start. I'll always be here for you, no matter what. Always, you can count on me."

"Like one, two, three," she whispers back just as her breathing evens out into the slow pattern of sleep.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the reviews; this story reached 300 reviews on Christmas Day, which made me do a happy dance, even though I was sick on Christmas. Cause I really love reading your reviews. Even if I'm maybe a little bit shy and tend to clam up when I attempt to answer them._

 _A guest asked for confirmation that Tris and Tobias will work it out. I can't respond to guest reviews (though if you ask me a direct question in a review in which you are signed in, I try to always respond, even if it's to say that I won't give you spoilers) so I"ll answer here that yes, this is a Fourtris story... when I think the characters are ready for it to happen._

 _I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as always, I love to hear your thoughts via a review or a PM!_


	31. Ch 31: Party Girl

_A/N: I thoroughly enjoyed the response to the last chapter, somehow I didn't anticipate so many readers to be Team Uriah. I haven't changed my mind about where this story is headed though. Plenty of time to get there. Happy new years to all! And lots of thanks to my dear friend Damn you Kylie for being my sounding board!_

* * *

 **Chapter 31  
** _ **Party Girl**_

 **FRIDAY, AUGUST 19, 2016 | 9:20 PM | FOUR**

I arrive more than an hour late to the party, even though Zeke told me to be early and help set up. These are my new roommates, after all. And maybe I would have, despite the tension whenever I'm home with Uriah and Tris, if the Pedrads hadn't invited Nita to the party.

If I had never seen that girl again in my life it still would have been too soon, but then she showed up at my apartment. Keeping from being anywhere private with her seemed like a smart idea until she asked, in front of everyone, for her bra. At least, in the end, I managed to get out of picking her up tonight, or even forfeiting my phone number.

I lied when I told her I had to work late, hoping she would find something else to do tonight. No such luck. Nita must have been watching for my arrival, because she is hanging off my arm before I make it two yards from the front door.

"Finally! Took you long enough," Nita whines. "Come on, let's dance." She tries to drag me toward the makeshift dance floor but I dig my heels into the floor.

"No," I say firmly, yanking my arm from her grasp. "I wanna get a drink."

"Fine," Nita huffs. "Bring me something fruity."

I bite my tongue, at least this gets me out of dancing for now. I look around as I make my way to the kitchen, somehow resisting the impulse to bring her Lynn's friend Kyle instead of a drink.

Usually at these parties, Zeke's living room is packed with people grinding against each other, but tonight the music was quieter than usual and it seemed that most of the guests were gathered in a circle playing "never have I ever."

Most of my friends are here ― Zeke and Shauna, of course; Al, Edward and Myra, Shauna's sister Lynn, and Lynn's friends Marlene, Kyle and Amy. I would have expected Will and Christina to be among the few on the dance floor, but it seems even Chris has been drawn into the game. Of them all, I'm really only close with Shauna and Zeke. I also see Peter, Molly and Drew, who must have been invited by Al. There are a few Zeke's and my coworkers, Sean, Brady and Alison, but so far no sign of Eric, Zeke's old roommate. Christina refers to Eric as our "frenemy," but he and I openly hate each other.

In the kitchen, I find a bottle of hard lemonade for Nita (still probably not as fruity as Kyle) and grab a local microbrew from the back of Zeke's fridge, where I knew the containers of leftovers would be obscuring Zeke's private stash from the view of other partygoers. I pop the tops off the glass bottles and as I make my way back to deliver Nita's drink, my attention is on the game taking place in the corner of the room. I quickly notice that Tris must have been one of the first out of the game as her five shots are already empty, and I watch as she continues to play anyway, taking large swigs straight from a bottle of tequila when someone called out something she had done. (Which was almost always.)

I have been occupied most of the week with work and studying, but it hasn't stopped me from noticing everything about Tris when I am home. Each night I have witnessed varying degrees of intoxication, from slightly buzzed the first few nights, to falling on her ass as she stumbled down the hall last night, but this is the first time I've actually seen her just nurse a bottle of straight liquor. And she looks perfectly comfortable at this party. Every now and then, seemingly at random, everyone shouts together indecipherably and throws back a shot or a pull of their beer. Each time, Tris settles further into Uriah's lap and takes a big gulp from her now half-empty fifth of Jose Cuervo.

I remember the first time I took Beatrice to a party in high school, near the end of my junior year. I was anxious about the event, as parties have never been my scene. But for once I wanted to take my girl out and show her off like all my classmates seemed to do. As far as I was concerned, I had been lucky enough to win the affections of the most beautiful, sweetest, smartest girl in school. Even if she was only a freshman. Beatrice cringed at every sip of alcohol and was just as uncomfortable with the the rowdy atmosphere as I was. We left after only an hour when Beatrice discovered Lisa Taylor, a cheerleader who had often been cruel to Tris in the past, wasted in a corner with a tear-streaked face. I never found out what had Lisa so upset ― whatever Lisa had confided, Beatrice kept it to herself ― but we left only an hour into the party, at Tris's request, to give Lisa a ride home. We didn't go back. Tris said she couldn't imagine that she would ever feel comfortable in a place where people acted so careless and stupid, and as long as I knew her, she never did.

My, how things change.

Christina and Will must have abandoned the drinking game to go for a dance. The song finishes and Christina wanders in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Will leaning against a wall observing the scene. As I pass Nita, I hand her the drink without looking at her and continue toward Will, but Nita stops me again, her long nails scraping my arm. I pause and scowl at her, and she glares back.

"What do you want, Nita?" I snap.

"I want you to dance with me," she purrs.

"I don't dance," I dismiss her, pulling my arm back once again before stomping across the room to my friend. It's not entirely true; I've been known to dance, just not in recent history. There's only ever been one girl who could coax me out onto the dance floor.

I lean against the wall next to Will, and he offers me his usual friendly smile and nod. I nod back and sip my beer.

"Where'd you find that?" Will asks. "All I could find was Miller High Life and PBR."

I smirk. "Can't tell you that. It's privileged information. One of the few rewards gained by over a year living with Zeke."

"And now you're putting up with another Pedrad," Will laughs, shaking his head. "Uriah doesn't seem any less crazy than his brother, does he?"

I shake my head and sigh. "If anything, he's worse. At least Uriah doesn't bring randoms home."

"Well, I imagine it would be pretty awkward if he did," Will laughs. "Tris seems like a lot of fun. They're a good match."

"Yeah, I guess." I clear my throat. "How did your finals go?" I ask, steering the subject away from my ex and her boyfriend. Will I just had Calculus together; Will is in the Electrical Engineering program and takes classes through the summer like I do. Except in Will's case, I think it might actually be because he just really enjoys it. I don't think he is half as relieved as I am to have the next month off before fall classes begin.

I keep an eye on Tris and Uriah while Will and I chat. Uriah holds Tris' waist so she doesn't fall off of his lap, and she spills a small trickle of tequila onto the carpet before Uriah rights the tipped bottle. I watch her laugh with Marlene and Lynn ― since when does Lynn act so comfortable and… well, _human_ with new people? Uriah is steady on his feet as he helps Tris up and makes sure she gains her balance, then lets Lynn pull her onto the dance floor.

I am mesmerized watching the three girls dance, their bodies moving together. Tris has at least found her feet enough for this. _When did Beatrice learn do dance like that?_ "That's hot," I hear Will murmur behind me. I just nod and keep my eyes on the girls until Christina grabs Will's hand and pulls him back to the dance floor, crossing in front of the trio and obscuring my view. That's when I finally notice the fight breaking out nearby.

Eric. I can't stand that guy. He was Zeke's roommate before I moved here and not only was he a terrible roommate, in my experience he's an all-around asshole. But Zeke still puts up with him. Zeke can get along with almost anyone.

To my surprise, Uriah does not seem to share Zeke's ability to get along with Eric, because that's exactly who Eric is taking a swing at. Uriah ducks Eric's punch with quick reflexes that I will not admit I'm impressed by. He dodges a second punch, and is readying himself to finally hit back when I realize I should break them up. Zeke beats me to it, calling something over his shoulder to Uriah while he pulls Eric away with Al's help. Uriah waves them off and disappears in the crowd. I can see that Zeke has matters in hand and head to the kitchen for another beer.

I dig another Obsidian Stout out of the back of Zeke's fridge. When I turn around, Tris is stumbling into the kitchen with her now empty tequila bottle. She almost trips and I catch her, setting her gently back on her feet and only letting go when I'm sure she's caught her balance.

"I hope you didn't drink that all by yourself," I say. "Taking you to the emergency room wouldn't be the best way to top off the night."

Tris scowls at me. "Not that it's any of your business, but no, I didn't drink it all myself. Which is why I need another."

I stare at her in disbelief. She's wasted. Completely and totally shitfaced. I don't know how she hasn't passed out yet, and here she is perusing Zeke's rather extensive collection of liquor. Is she trying to kill herself?!

"How about I get you some water instead?" I don't wait for an answer, I just grab a bottle of water and twist the top off. When I turn back to her, she is fixing me with a glare that leaves me feeling cold all over. And it seems she has selected her next bottle; she takes a swig and swallows the mouthful of whiskey without flinching. At least it was two-thirds gone by the time she picked that one up.

I take two steps forward and close my fingers around the bottle, but her grip on its neck doesn't falter. "You need to stop, Tris. You're going to get yourself hurt."

"I can take care of myself just fine."

"It doesn't look that way from where I'm standing," I sigh.

"Then stand somewhere else. I've survived the last two years without your help, haven't I?" she snaps. She takes a step back from me but I follow.

I cup her jaw with my free hand and brush my thumb across her cheekbone. Her eyes close and for just a second before they do, I see the softness they used to hold when she looked at me. "What's going on with you, Beatrice? This isn't you," I say quietly.

Her eyes snap open and any hint of affection I saw before is gone. Now, they are hard as steel. She steps away from me quickly, ripping the bottle from my hand, shaking her head. "Don't call me that. I'm not Beatrice anymore, and you don't know me." Her voice is as hard as her eyes. "You lost your right to say anything when you left me. So you can just go to hell, _Four._ "

My shoulders sag as I watch her walk away, past Zeke, who stands in the doorway. He glances over his shoulder at her as she passes before meeting my eyes. "Just let her go, man," he says, a warning flashing in his eyes.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I've spotted Tris across the room again. Uriah is nowhere to be seen and I'm going to keep an eye on her whether she wants my help or not. Of course, it's hard to do that as I keep trying to move away from Nita. You'd think by my grunted non-responses to her babble about Taylor Swift (something about rumors that she broke with with Tom somebody-or-other, who the fuck cares? Nita, apparently) and repeated attempts to move away from her that Nita would get the hint, but she just keeps following me. The girl can't take a hint.

"...don't you think, Four?" Nita's voice filters in. I glance at her for a moment and see that she's beginning to get annoyed at my inattention. Well, good. Maybe she'll give up soon.

"Huh?" I ask absently, watching Eric approach Tris.

"God," Nita huffs, finally following my line of sight. She turns back to me and rolls her eyes. "Ugh, that's your roommate, right? What a skank, doesn't she have a boyfriend? Not that I understand what either of them see in her. Lucky you, not having to settle for trash like her." I glare at Nita. She has such a smug look on her face. "C'mon, sexy, dance with me," she demands.

This has to stop. The little scene Tris witnessed when Nita came by the other day was bad enough. I don't really want Tris seeing me with girls in general, and certainly not girls like Nita. Why the hell did I let Zeke goad me into what I did last weekend? I must have been as trashed as Tris now is to tolerate this slut for even five minutes.

It's time I make it very clear to Nita just where we stand. "Nita, I―" My voice dies in my throat when my eyes dart back over to Tris and my pulse accelerates. Eric has her basically cornered, as if she has been backing away from him and inadvertently trapped herself. And is that ― did he just ― did he just put something in her drink?

I step toward Tris but Nita is in my way, snaking her arms around my neck.

I see Eric has moved even further into Tris's personal space. Where the hell is Uriah?

I need to get to Tris, right now. Nita and I can have that conversation later. I firmly grab Nita's forearms and remove her. I try to step around her and she mirrors me, so I literally pick her up by the upper arms and set her to the side.

I push people aside, earning shouts and a few shoves, but I barely notice, I have to get to Tris.

"Hey!" I shout, yanking Eric away from her by the shoulder. Not expecting me, he quickly shuffles back. "Stay away from her, Eric. Don't come near her again," I growl.

"Mind your own business, Four," Eric fumes, shoving me back. He takes a step toward Tris again with a smirk. "We were having a good time, weren't we, Tris?"

I push him back. "Tris _is_ my business." I try to wipe the rage from my face as I turn to look at Tris. "Tris… are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, confident but without the anger I heard in her voice earlier.

Uriah pushes through the growing crowd surrounding us, followed by Zeke. "What's going on?" Uriah asks, stepping in front of Tris.

"Just getting to know each other," Eric grins. Uriah narrows his eyes.

"I saw that bastard put something in her drink!" I shout.

Eric scowls at me. "I did not," he protests. He smirks. "I wouldn't need to."

Zeke looks at me. "Four?" I huff and shake my head. I wasn't sure what I saw, I just know what it looked like. Zeke seems to understand and takes the bottle from Tris's hand so he can dispose of its contents; Tris doesn't resist. "Okay, Eric, I think it's time for you to go." Zeke's tone leaves no room for argument, but Eric doesn't move. "Out!" Zeke barks before leading Eric away.

Uriah is checking Tris over, speaking to quietly, then turns back to me. "Look, thanks, man. I―"

"Where the fuck were you?" I growl at Uriah. He knew she was in no condition to look after herself, how many times has he left her like that? How could he let her put herself in that state to begin with? Behind me I see Tris heading to the bathroom with Shauna's arm around her. "Do you realize what could have happened if I hadn't been there? What the hell is wrong with her, Uriah?"

" _Wrong_ with her?" Uriah glares. "Nothing's _wrong_ with her. She's just had a little too much to drink." I vaguely note that my choice of words seems to have especially pissed him off, but I can't think any more on it right now.

"A little? She's fucking shitfaced! She needed you and where the fuck were you?"

Uriah scoffs. "She needed me? You're one to talk, _Tobias,_ " he seethes.

I don't remember deciding to hit him. I didn't even know it was going to happen until I felt my fist collide with his face. A second later Uriah has tackled me. As we brawl I have a vague thought that I must be way out of practice if Uriah managed to catch me off guard like that, but that's something to contemplate later.

Zeke catches my fist just before it can connect with Uriah's temple. It takes a total of four guys to pull Uriah and me apart, but once they do, I don't fight them. Will pushes me toward the couch and I hold my head in my hands, trying to slow my heaving breaths.

"Four is right, Tris is too wasted to be left on her own tonight," I hear Zeke tell Uriah. "I should have just sent Eric away after he picked that fight with you."

"You said you'd keep an eye on her," Uriah accuses Zeke.

"I know. I'm sorry. Just go, look after her." I can only assume that Uriah leaves to find Tris, because I don't look up to find out. Zeke stands in front of me. "Come on, man," he says. "You need to cool off. Let's go get some air."

* * *

 _She needed me? You're one to talk,_ Tobias.

Uriah's ears echo in my ears all the way out to the parking lot. Zeke leans against a fence while I pace in front of him, compulsively running my hands through my hair.

"How the hell did this happen?" I moan. "She's― I―" Zeke stares at me bewildered. "She's not okay, Zeke. Why is she acting like this? How can he just watch her― He didn't even stay and protect her!"

"That was my fault. Uriah had a run in with Eric the other day and when they saw each other shit went down. I told Uri to take a break."

I shake my head. "She never used to be like this Zeke. I didn't know it would hurt her this much when I left. It's my fault! I just wanted to keep her safe, I wanted to protect her. She was supposed to be just fine. She had her family, she didn't need me. She was supposed to be better off without me!"

Zeke pushes off the fence and slowly comes toward me, like he's approaching a wounded animal. "Four," he says.

"Every day it's worse than the one before," I rant. "I can't― I don't―"

"Four," Zeke repeats, a little louder. I can't break away from the thoughts swimming through my head. Did I really do this to her? How could I do that?

"Four." The voice grates at my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but at least pulls me from my guilt and self-loathing. Long nails lightly scrape my arm as Nita tries to attach herself to me once again.

"Nita, what the hell do you want now?" I hiss.

Nita scowls. "Well, now that you're done helping your pathetic little roommate," she pouts, "I thought I could finally spend a little time with my date. Come on, let's get out of here. This party is lame."

Finally I cannot tolerate this bitch for one more second.

"I'm not your date!" I explode. "I didn't even invite you here! Just fuck off already, Nita. You were a distraction. Nothing more. So we spent a night together, so what? It meant nothing. _Nothing_. I didn't want you then, and I sure as hell don't want you now. Just look at yourself ― you look like a whore. I must have been drunk out of my mind to be able to stand five minutes with you. Go find some other poor schmuck to put up with your bullshit, because you and I are never going to happen."

After slapping me across the face, Nita shrieks, "Fuck you, asshole!" But it's worth the clear handprint that will probably still be visible on my cheek tomorrow when she stalks off with a frustrated scream.

Anger spent, I slump against the fence.

"Well," Zeke says, "that was entertaining." He leans back against the fence next to me, quiet like he's deep in thought.

"Four," Zeke finally says, "give Tris some time. This has been a difficult week for her, and it's not over yet. Things should get better in a few days."

"How do you know?"

Zeke puffs his cheeks and blows out a long breath. "I just do. I'm getting the feeling that there's a lot you don't know about. Look, Tris was in a bad place when she met Uriah. They both were. And then shit went down."

"What do you mean, shit went down?"

Zeke shrugs. "It's not my place, man."

I growl in frustration, since when is Zeke Pedrad so fucking cryptic? "Just tell me, Zeke."

Zeke shakes his head and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Just trust that he knows what she needs. If anyone knows how to take care of Tris when she's… like this… it's Uriah. He's seen her through worse."

I watch Zeke walk away and try to make sense of his words. But I can't. All I can piece together is that something else happened. The idea that this isn't Tris's worst is more than unsettling, it's outright frightening, and whether it's something that was my fault or not, I don't know.

It seems the only person who might tell me, is Beatrice.

* * *

 _A/N: If you have a minute to drop a review, please don't hesitate! I love reviews. Quick reminder that I can't respond to guest reviews via PM._

 _Guest reviewer - it's funny, I was already writing this chapter when you reviewed with your suggestions for the chapter. Didn't change a thing I had planned. Great minds, eh?_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	32. Ch 32: Demanding Answers

**Chapter 32  
** _ **Demanding Answers**_

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2016 | 1:05 AM | TRIS**

I feel heavy, worn down, as I trudge up the stairs to our apartment. Uriah's hand is on the small of my back; he has been touching me constantly, in one small way or another, like a hand on my arm or an arm around my shoulders ― since my encounter with Eric. Inside I am waging a war between a desire to assuage the guilt I see in his eyes for not being there, and anger that he wasn't there when I needed them. Because Uriah is always supposed to be there when I need him, and tonight especially, that had been understood. It is the reason that he was the designated driver tonight instead of taking a bus or Uber to the party, like we normally would.

He knows what it's like, the pressure of grief slowly crushing you as it builds and builds. The sensation that you are floating in nothing, in the vacuum of space, while simultaneously feeling as though you've fallen off your surfboard and the waves have taken you over, forcing you to tumble with no air and not knowing which way is up. To feel like you have no idea what to do, which way to turn, how to get your footing and desperately wanting anything at all to dull it, to slow it down, to dampen that sickening feeling.

He knows what it's like, and he wasn't there when I needed him.

I know it isn't really Uriah's fault. Zeke apologized for getting distracted, he had promised to watch out for me when he sent Uriah to walk it off after his own issues with Eric. On the other hand, Zeke is Uriah's brother. Uriah should be well aware of Zeke's tendency toward distraction.

After Four confronted Eric and Uriah burst onto the scene, Shauna led me to the bedroom she shares with Zeke to give me some time to calm down. I refused to show it in front of Eric and Four, but the incident had frightened me and I was shaking by the time Lynn slipped in behind us and Shauna shut the bedroom door.

A minute later Uriah was there, wrapping his arms around me while silent tears rolled down my face. I let him hold me, but I couldn't completely relax in his arms like I normally would. I didn't tell him everything like I normally would, didn't tell him how forward Eric had been, both with his words and his hands, and how trapped and panicked I felt. And I didn't tell him how having Tobias ― _Four_ , I reminded myself, because I cannot allow myself to mix up the two persona ― come to my aid instead of the one man I have counted on these past two years, left me so confused and unsteady. How it amplified that feeling of not knowing which way is up.

After a few minutes Shauna shooed Uriah away from me and he promised he wasn't going anywhere as Shauna led me into the en suite. I could hear Lynn chewing Uriah out on the other side of the bathroom door while Shauna gently washed my face with a cool damp cloth and carefully reapplied my makeup. My head wasn't foggy any more; the entire scene with Eric sobered me like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head.

Uriah was glued to my side until we left the party an hour later, and I noticed Lynn keeping a close eye on us, always with a scowl aimed Uriah's way. I avoided the kitchen; every time I caught a glimpse of its doorway I got a strange feeling in my stomach remembering my conversation with Four there and didn't know what to feel. He had tried to help me before I could get myself into trouble, he had looked at me with such concern and confusion and… something else. And I didn't want to analyze it, didn't want to think about the memories that had flooded me when he touched my face.

And I definitely did not want to think about the way I treated him in response. I wasn't sorry at the time, but that was before.

I'm grateful that he helped me, even after I told him, not fifteen minutes earlier and in no uncertain terms, that I didn't want it. But it left me feeling confused, and I don't have the energy to process more emotions right now. Not when I was already drowning in them.

And now I am standing in front of the door to the apartment, dreading going in. I didn't see Four for the rest of the night, I think he may have left the party after dealing with Eric. What if he came home? I didn't see that bitch Nita for the rest of the night; what if he brought her back here? That would just be fan-fucking-tastic. Or I suppose he could have brought home another girl; I saw several batting their eyelashes at him tonight. It was clear the other day that Nita had been a one night stand, maybe he's just turned himself into a man whore. I can't imagine that many girls would turn him down.

It doesn't matter. Even if I'm a little mad at him right now, I have Uriah, and he is the one I want. Tobias is my past, and I am not here to relive that. I'm here to move forward. But I still hope I don't have to see him anymore tonight.

As soon as Uri opens the door I see Four, head in his hands, propped up with his elbows on the kitchen table. He looks up immediately, eyes focusing on me as if completely unaware of Uriah's presence.

"Tris," he says.

I tense; I cannot let my jumbled emotions cloud my judgment so I force all of it down until I feel numb. I won't be able to keep that control long, but I should be able to manage long enough to escape to my own room.

"Four," I nod.

I swiftly walk through the living room toward the hall but Four grabs my wrist as I try to pass him. I stop, standing stock still.

"We need to talk, Tris," Four says.

I shake my head. I can't do this. Not now. "No," I say. "Not now. I have nothing to say to you."

"Oh, I think you do, Beatrice."

I glare at him. "Do I? I thought we had things to talk about two years ago, but you seemed to decide otherwise, without my input. It's no more your decision now than it was mine then, Four."

Guilt flashes in his eyes, but he doesn't release me. "I was wrong to shut you out. I admit that. But I'm not letting you get away without an explanation, Tris. Something's happened to you and I need to know what. I'm going crazy seeing you like this, Tris. This isn't you."

"Yes it is," I hiss. "I've changed. I'm not the girl you abandoned two years ago, not anymore, and you just have to accept that."

My eyes narrow at Four's humorless laugh. "Accept it? No, Tris, I don't think so. I can't. Not without knowing what happened to you."

"It's none of your business." I try again to tug my arm away from him and look over my shoulder at Uriah in a silent plea for him to step in. He knows I hate to look weak, knows better than to jump in when I'm not in any real danger, not unless I give the go ahead.

"Stop, Four," Uriah says, stepping toward us and pushing Four out of the way, and I again start toward the hallway. "This isn't the time."

"I think I've waited long enough. I know something happened to you and I want to know what it was. None of this make sense, Beatrice. You never acted this way before. Your mother must be going out of her mind, seeing you like this."

I stiffen mid-step and hear Uriah curse under his breath. All the emotion I've been pushing back floods past its hastily constructed barriers and I whirl to face him. "You don't know what you're talking about, Four," I hiss through gritted teeth.

"If I've got it wrong, Tris, by all means, set me straight. Tell me what your mother thinks of what you've become."

"Four, _stop_ ," Uriah growls.

I turn to Four and fix him with a glare. He appears unaffected by my hard stare, now standing with his shoulders squared and arms crossed over his chest, his face set in an emotionless mask.

"She doesn't think anything about it, Four," I say quietly.

Four scoffs. "I doubt that."

"She _doesn't,_ " my voice now rising and tears streaming down my face, "because she's _dead_."

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2016 | 1:15 AM | FOUR**

"She _doesn't,_ because she's _dead._ "

Tris shouts the words and I stumble back as if she had shoved me. _Dead?_ My stomach does an agonizing flip. I lean back against the countertop behind me. She has already turned to charge down the hall. "Beatrice…" I choke out at her retreating back, but she doesn't even pause. She disappears and down the hall, a door slams.

"She told you to stop. I told you to stop. You couldn't just listen?" Uriah says. His voice is quiet and calm, but anger and worry are both evident in his eyes as they flick to the hallway. "She didn't want to talk about it. Not tonight. Then you just had to go there, didn't you? Natalie would have been damn proud of her, you know." He shakes his head. "Don't you think you've hurt her enough already?"

Uriah then follows Tris down the hall, throwing me one last look of disgust.

And I deserve it. I feel disgusted with myself, too.

Suddenly my feet itch to get as far away from Beatrice as I can. Away, where I can't hurt her. What the hell was I thinking? I may have only been asking out of concern for her, but the least she deserved was respect for her feelings and give her the time she was telling me she needed. I've only been back in her life less than a week.

But she's changed so much it scares me. She seems to set herself a collision course of self-destruction and that was the last thing I had ever wanted for her. I could feel myself falling further in every moment I was trapped there with Marcus, every disparaging word, every angry blow. I knew, I just _knew_ , that if I stayed with her I would drag her down with me.

My feet have moved on their own accord, down the stairwell and through the parking lot, weaving across sidewalks along familiar streets. I don't think about my destination, I hardly think at all. My feet carry me twenty blocks to a park I have visited often.

I found this park about a month after arriving to Portland. I tried not to come back, but still found myself here dozens of times since. Always the same spot: near the edge of a large grassy area with a slight incline, beneath a maple tree. It reminds me so achingly of the place I spent my last afternoon with my Beatrice. Our favorite spot in our favorite park back in Chicago, a little haven we met in so often that we truly thought of it as _ours._

I lay back in the grass just like I did on that last day. It always feels as though I am waiting for her when I come here, like I never left, never lost her. But that's not right. I did lose her ― not so much lose her, as gave her up. I broke her heart and left her to face the cruelty of life on her own.

I sit up and rest my forearms on my knees, face in my hands. All I can see is the anguish on her face as she told me her mother was dead. What happened to her? How long has it been?

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, mind racing over everything Zeke ever told me about Uriah and Tris.

Zeke told me about his family the first time we got drunk together. It wasn't that he had been secretive or closed off ― Zeke is pretty much an open book. I already knew his dad had died a few months before and that he had been stuck in Portland for Christmas, unable to take the financial hit that would come with a week off work had he spent the holiday back home. He had just received a text from his brother's girlfriend, a comical photo of a guy half-buried in a snowbank, hat completely caked in snow, snowboard thrown a couple yards away, giving a thumbs up with his gloved fingers.

Zeke grinned widely as he showed me the photo and that's when he started telling me all about his family. I had been surprised when he was quick to include his brother's girlfriend in his stories, especially when I learned that she and Uriah had only known one another a few months, and Zeke had only met her a few times.

That was when he gave me the explanation that I now can't believe I forgot about: he told me that they met in the oncology ward at the hospital and had bonded over their parents' terminal illnesses. Her mother had died first, and Zeke and Uriah's dad a few weeks later. He knew Uriah would get through it even though Zeke couldn't be there, he told me, because Tris was there and she understood it all. Maybe even better than Zeke could, from what he had witnessed. I tug at my hair as a fresh wave of pain rolls through me.

Of Beatrice's whole family, only Natalie really knew of our friendship. Sure, Caleb must have been aware, but he was too preoccupied with his own interests to pay Bea any attention when she wasn't directly in front of him, and we ran in different crowds. Natalie was unassuming, though I sometimes wondered if she had an inkling of what was really going on between Tris and me, she never made me feel unwelcome or scrutinized. Tris never brought me around the house when Andrew was home ― a mutual decision between us ― but I did sometimes sit with Tris and Natalie for a while after school, as I often gave Tris a ride home if Caleb was busy with mathletes or whatever he did.

Natalie was Tris's rock. Andrew had only ever made Tris feel inadequate, but Natalie seemed to exude nothing but pride and acceptance of her daughter. I don't even want to think about how Tris handled two years of Andrew without Natalie there to temper him and perform constant damage control.

Tris is not Beatrice. I can accept that. I can try to accept that. I cannot deny what I have seen right in front of my eyes. There is a innocence and a trust that has been extinguished in her, replaced with hunger and a restlessness.

I feel blindly at the space to my left, automatically searching out her hand with mine even though I never find it. It is a reminder that I need Beatrice, or Tris, or whoever she is in my life even if she isn't the same girl I remember. I don't really know her any more, but I realize, I do _want_ to. I want to learn who she has become. But will she let me?

* * *

 **SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2016 | 9:45 AM | URIAH**

I softly close the door to our bedroom and lean against the wall of the hallway, letting my head fall back against it with a soft thud. I'm tempted to bang my head against the wall and maybe I should. Maybe it would get Tris to come out just to see what the hell is going on. I shake my head and file the idea away to try later. Hopefully I won't need it.

Entering the kitchen, I almost turn right around and walk out. Four was nowhere to be seen earlier this morning, but now he's sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal. I tamp down on my anger before walking past him without any greeting and go straight to the fridge for the can of cinnamon rolls I bought yesterday. I have spent the ninety minutes and a half trying to get Tris out of bed, and I am nearly certain that even with her hangover I would have won after only thirty if he would have just left well enough alone last night. But no, he just had to push her and push her. But really, I know it was the comments about what her mom must think of her that pushed her past her breaking point.

After I heard Four leave the apartment last night, I found Tris crying in the shower. She let me rinse the soap out of her hair and lead her to bed, and I held her all night, but I couldn't get her talking. It has always been easy for Tris to talk to me, we have trusted one another implicitly for a long time now. But not last night, and this morning she is still shutting me out.

I read the instructions on the side of the can and set the oven to preheat, which takes me a minute because this oven is completely new to me. It's the first time I've given it more than a glance. Maybe I should cook more often for Tris, she's always the one making food for me. Then again, there's a reason I don't do the cooking; I'll be lucky if these canned cinnamon rolls come out edible.

After I've separated the rolls and arranged them on the baking pan I found in a drawer under the oven, Four speaks up. "You should turn it down by about 25 degrees," he says. "It's an old oven, tends to run a little hot." Forced now to acknowledge him, I nod and turn the dial back before putting the rolls in the oven and closing the door. "Timer," Four reminds me between sips from his coffee mug. "There's a digital one on the fridge. The one on the oven is broken."

"Right," I sigh, finding the magnetic timer on the front of the fridge and setting it. "Probably wouldn't do much to lure Tris out of bed if I burned them."

Four raises his eyebrows. "She won't get up? Thought you guys had plans today."

"We do. I'm taking her zip lining. The place has obstacle courses high up in the trees, it will be awesome, if she'll just get out of bed."

"Maybe you should bring her some water and ibuprofen. She must have a killer hangover after last night."

I scowl at the lingering disapproval on his face. "I'm not an idiot, Four. I already did that. An hour and a half ago. I'm guessing it has a lot more to do with your comments last night."

He at least has the decency to look ashamed. "I was worried about her," he admits quietly. "I didn't mean to make it worse. I just needed to know."

"Well," I sigh, "whether you realized it or not, the comments about her mom were below the belt. And today is the two-year anniversary…" I trail off. Four stares into his coffee mug while I set about pouring my own coffee and one for Tris. I add eight sugars and plenty of milk and leave Tris's black.

"My turn to try," Four says, reaching past me for the coffee.

I eye him warily. "I don't think she wants to see you."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I know. I'm going to try talking to her anyway. If this is my fault, I need to try and fix it."

I shake my head as I watch him head down to our bedroom with Tris's coffee, I'm afraid he's only going to make things even worse.

* * *

A half-hour of pacing, flicking through tv channels, and two cups of coffee later, no one has come out of the bedroom. I'm familiar with the forced patience required to get through to Tris at times like these, but knowing that _he_ is in there with her brings up plenty of feelings I refuse to put names to. Whatever all these unnamed feelings are, they're getting harder and harder to ignore the longer I wait.

I'm starting to really wish I had agreed to Tris's idea of finding somewhere else to stay, or even camping out for a few more months, instead of living here with Four. This is not how I saw this situation playing out.

I jump up, leaving the tv playing the baseball game that I have paid little to no attention to for the last ten minutes, when I hear the door open. Four's footsteps are strangely light and quiet for a guy his size but I know it's him. He peeks his head out of the hallway and meets my eyes. "She'll be right out," he says, then disappears again and a moment later I hear his bedroom door close.

I should be relieved, I should be grateful, that he apparently found the right words help Tris drag herself out of her own torment long enough that I will have the chance to distract her with a new adventure. But I'm not.

True to Four's word, Tris comes out only a couple of minutes later dressed in a tank top and shorts, blue-streaked blond hair pulled into a messy bun, looking as beautiful as always. "Ready," she says with a forced smile.

"Let's go," I say. I'm aiming for cheerful and she seems to be distracted enough to buy it. I take her hand and lead her out of the apartment, wondering what he could possibly have said, but at the same time really not wanting to know. Looks like I might need the distraction almost as much as Tris does today.


	33. Ch 33: Quiet Mornings

_A/N: Yikes, this one took me forever, didn't it? All I can say is, writer's block. I knew what needed to happen, but I just couldn't write. If you're still with me even after the long wait, thank you so much for reading. Anyway, moving on… here (finally) is the chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter 33  
** _ **Quiet Mornings**_

 **MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2016 | 10:30 AM | FOUR**

The apartment is quiet when I bring my Stephen King novel out to the living room. Before Uriah and Tris moved in, I didn't read as often, but now it's become a regular part of my day: get up, eat breakfast, go for a run, have a shower, then read for a while.

When I get to the living room, Tris is curled up against one arm of the couch, eyes focused on the John Green paperback in her hand. I can see the library stickers on the spine and wonder how many more borrowed books are in her room. Whether she would admit it or not, some things don't change; Tris always had a stack of library books on her bedside table back when we were dating. She has always loved to read, and the habit inspired me to pick the hobby back up as well. I won't admit it aloud, but it's mostly for the excuse to spend time with her. Tris got a job waitressing at nearby Hopworks Urban Brewery (which most of us refer to as "the HUB") while Uriah is working daytime at a sporting goods store, so this is the time of day where Tris and I are home together without her boyfriend.

The royal blue streaks in her golden hair have mostly faded out and been replaced by a lighter aqua blue. I never would have imagined her doing anything like that when I knew her before, but the more I get to know her (though she doesn't make it easy) the more I find that it suits her.

"Morning, Tris," I say as I sit at the opposite end of the couch.

She glances up and gives me a small smile. "Morning," she replies before immediately turning her attention back to her book.

I read for about ten minutes. Some days, her presence is more distracting than others and today is one of those days where I am more affected; I only make it through a few pages and hardly remember what I read. So I set the book down and look at Tris who is still engrossed in her book.

"Have you been to the central library yet?" I ask her.

She looks up with a blank face. "Sorry, what?"

"The central library," I repeat. "The one downtown, near the university. Have you been there yet?"

"Uh, no." She lowers her book, her finger marking the place she left off. "Why?"

I shrug. "I've just always thought you'd love it. It's much bigger than the local one. Oh, and Powell's. Have you been to Powell's?"

"I work on Powell," she says with confusion.

I shake my head. "Not the street," I clarify. "Powell's City of Books, the used bookstore downtown. It's huge, supposed to be the largest used bookstore in the world. I'm going today, actually, if you want to come."

"Um, that sounds cool… I don't know, maybe. I'll think about it. When are you going?"

I feel a bit lighter, Tris usually turns me down flat when I invite her along somewhere. Maybe she's coming around. I know she isn't available, but I at least want her in my life as a friend if we can't be more than that. Not that I'm willing to give up hope that we can get back together one day.

Tris's phone buzzes on the coffee table and she looks at it then quickly silences it and sets it back down. I gain just a little more confidence; she could have used a phone call as an excuse to end the conversation but she was quick to ignore it.

"I have a thing before work, so, maybe in an hour? I want to see if any of the books I need for my fall classes might be cheaper there than the university's bookstore." I pause and watch her bite her lip as she thinks about it. "Have you thought about signing up for classes at the community college? School starts next week." Tris stares at me blankly and my nerves start to rise. "You could take art classes or something. You know, this room would be great for painting, the lighting by the window would be great. Do you… I haven't seen you paint since you got here…"

"No, I haven't," Tris says flatly, not making eye contact. My heart sinks realizing she's going back to the Tris I've known this past month ― the one who keeps our conversations as impersonal as possible. "I couldn't bring everything when I moved here, you know."

"So you left your paints behind?" I ask, frowning. She used to paint often and was really good at it. The ferris wheel painting she gave me for our anniversary still hangs in my closet; I couldn't stand to see it all the time, but neither could I bear to tuck it away in a box, let alone get rid of it.

"Yep," Tris says, popping the 'p'. She closes her book and stands up. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass on the bookstore for today. Hope you find what you need, though."

"Uh… okay…" I say as she turns away and walks swiftly down the hall. A feeling of defeat washes over me when I hear her bedroom door click shut.

* * *

I have a few free hours left after my (rather unsuccessful) trip to Powell's, and subsequent visit to the university bookstore. Instead of driving straight home, I find myself pulling up to a familiar storefront. The parking lot is nearly empty, it must be a slow day.

The bell chimes as I enter the tattoo parlour and Tori's head pops up from behind the counter. "Four," she says warmly. "Where have you been hiding yourself? Haven't seen you in a while."

"Around," I say. "Adjusting to the new roommates and all that."

"Ah," she says with a knowing look. "And how's that going?"

I was last here a few days after Tris and Uriah's arrival, ranting about how much the situation sucked. The paper-thin walls of the apartment had, for the first time, allowed me to hear things I wish I could burn from my memory. Now I keep the ear plugs in their own special spot on top of my dresser so that I don't ever have to search for them again. I have been pleasantly surprised to only need them a few times, but I can only assume that Tris and Uriah must try to avoid such activities when I am home.

I glance around. "Where's Christina?" I ask.

"Off today," Tori tells me. "And George is on a lunch break. Bud's sorting supplies out in the back room. Not many appointments today."

I nod, now feeling more comfortable talking to Tori. George introduced me to his sister the first week I was here in Portland and she seemed to sort of adopt me as a second little brother. She is the only person who I would trust with any of this, and I know I need her help now.

"I don't know, Tori," I say with a sigh. "She's so different to how I remember her. But at the same time… there's a lot that hasn't changed."

I tell Tori about how worried I was for Tris when she first arrived here, how she seemed to be drowning herself in alcohol on a nearly constant basis, and what happened that night at the party. I relay what I the little I learned about Natalie's death.

Tori sighs. "You saw how George was after Amar's death," she says. I nod; for months after my arrival to Portland, George tried to be friendly to me but was so often withdrawn and a bit angry ― not at me, just at the world, at his circumstance. I saw him drunk off his ass more than once. But in the past year, as he has begun to heal, glimpses of what I am sure is the real George Wu have shined through more and more, and he's okay now. Still hurting sometimes, but he's alright. But there was definitely a bit of a relapse last December when the holidays and the anniversary of Amar's death brought that pain back to the surface once again.

"I remember," I say. "And she seems better since a little after that party. I haven't seen her like that again, anyway."

"That's good."

"Yeah, but I still don't like it. I don't know, I want to know what else happened those two years I was gone."

Tori watches me as she takes a sip of her tea. Her movements seem slow and deliberate as she sets the tea down in front of her, leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. "Why?" she asks.

"Why?" I scoff.

"Yes, I asked why. Why do you want to know? You left."

My ears warm. "I'm well aware of that, Tori, I certainly don't need you to rub my face in it."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are," I growl.

"What do you want, Four?" she repeats.

"I want her back!"

Tori hardly reacts. After a moment she leans toward me, resting her arms on her knees. "But Beatrice has moved on, Four."

"Tris," I correct her. "She's not Beatrice anymore. Sometimes I still see her in there, but she's changed. What I have seen, what I know of her...I like it. I'm trying to get to know her, to get to know _Tris_ , but she doesn't want to let me."

"Well," Tori says slowly. "She's probably wondering the same thing I just asked you. And I don't think 'I want her back' is going to cut it. So, tell me, Four. What do you want out of this?"

I sigh and rub my hands over my face. "I know she has moved on, Tori. Of course I do. But she was so important to me. She made me better, braver, stronger. She made me feel like maybe I deserved better than the life I had in Chicago. She was the only good thing in it. So, yeah, I know I might never have her back the way I want to, but I want another chance anyway. Even if it's only as her friend."

Tori smirks. "Okay," she says, and looks me in the eye. "Here's the thing, Four. You aren't the same person you were before, either. You aren't even entirely the same person you were when I met you a year and a half ago, and I know the time you were with Amar must have changed you as well. Here you are wanting her to open up and tell you all the things that happened to her, all the ways she has changed. Why should she if she doesn't even really know you?"

I take a moment to think about her words. She has a point. But I feel like I am walking on eggshells around Tris, always afraid to drive her further away. I sure as hell screwed shit up when she first got here and I feel like I'm one misstep from losing her completely.

But I also know that if it's all an act, I can't keep it up forever.

"Okay," I say. "What do I do?"

Tori smiles in a way that makes me think she just wants to roll her eyes at me. "Be yourself, for one thing." A tall order, really. But I stay quiet and just listen. "And if you want her to tell you anything about the past, you need to do the same. You can't expect her to open up about the past if you won't. Fill her in on the things that changed you while you were apart." I nod. The time we were apart… I can do that. I can try, at least. "Look, Four, I don't know what happened in Chicago, and I don't need to. That's your business. But I think it might be Tris's business, too. I think you'll have to be honest with her."

I swallow, my throat feeling tight. Like I am having a physical reaction to the very idea of talking about it all. There is a reason I never told her about parts of my life back when we were together, why would I want to drudge that up now? I don't, and I won't. The past two years ― the time we were apart ― that's one thing. But telling her the truth about my father… that just isn't going to happen.

"I'll think about it, Tori," I say. "Thanks."


	34. Ch 34: Gifts & Explanations

_A/N: A big thank you for everyone who is still reading this story despite having to wait so long for an update, and especially to everyone who reviewed. You always make my day when you review!_

* * *

 **Chapter 34  
** _ **Gifts & Explanations**_

 **MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2016 | 4:55 PM | FOUR**

"Mr. Four, watch this!" I nod at the twelve-year-old in encouragement, arms crossed over my chest, as she shows off the right and left hook she has been practicing, smiling when I actually see the punching bag move. She hasn't picked up the techniques as quickly as the other kids and young teens in the class, but she is hardworking and tenacious. I know she'll get the hang of it.

"Good job, Elia," I say, patting her shoulder as I pass. "You've worked hard and you're really getting the hang of this, aren't you? You should be proud of yourself. Did you sign up for another term?"

Elia smiles. "Yep. Same day and time. Are you teaching again?" she asks hopefully.

"Sure am. Good job this term, Elia. Now, keep practicing, I'll see you next week." She smiles brightly and scurries over to her mother, who sends me a nod and a wave as she ushers Elia out of the community center gym.

The other five kids have all either left with their parents or set off to walk home with a friend. Another martial arts class practices in here in about an hour, so I am saved from having to put up the mats and punching bags. I head out to the front desk and punch out on the time clock. I make very little money by teaching one youth boxing class per week at the local community center, but I am not doing this for the money. The kids I am teaching don't show any signs of a problematic home life like the one I grew up with, but the skills I am teaching them now could save them from someone who intends to harm them one day, nonetheless.

I say goodbye to Keenan and Becca at the front desk and head out to my car. I have to be at work (at my real job, as a security patrol at Intel) in two hours, but I wanted to get some paints for Tris. If I hurry, I might have time to stop at an art supply store so that I can give them to her tomorrow. I unlock the car and toss my duffel bag into the backseat, but when I am about to get in, I pause. Across the lot, sitting on a concrete retaining wall, is a boy I've been wanting a word with.

He looks to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. His skin is too pale and his shaggy hair dyed jet black. He wears a faded Slipknot t-shirt over a discolored gray, long-sleeved thermal t-shirt and black jeans, despite the fact that it is 85 degrees today. I don't know his name, I have never spoken to him, but I've seen him around. Specifically, I have seen him every Monday at four o'clock, always standing alone a yard away from the open side door of the gym, watching me teach the boxing class.

I glance into my car, then back at the boy. I scratch the back of my neck as I try to decide what to do. If I talk to him, I probably won't have time to go to the art supply store and won't be able to give Tris the paints tomorrow. But… something is drawing me to this boy, and although I have seen him every week, he has always been gone before I make it outside. I don't know when I will get another chance.

I approach him slowly, sitting down on the retaining wall about four feet away from him. He glances at me then looks back at his shoes, but I see the way he shrinks in on himself. I watch him for a minute, debating how to start a conversation with him. I'm really not one to be friendly with strangers, even kids, but I need to do this. He beats me to it.

"What?" he snaps at me.

"Seen you around a lot, that's all," I say. "You're outside my class every week."

His eyes dart around uncomfortably. "That a crime?"

"No," I say. "But it makes me wonder why you don't just sign up and take the class."

He shrugs. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I just think it's funny watching those kids trying to be all tough. Not like they could actually win a fight."

"They might," I say. "They've got a better chance than they would have without training. Though I hope they won't be going out just picking fights. You've been watching and listening long enough to know I don't approve of that. But if they're ever in a dangerous situation, maybe they'll have a fighting chance."

The kid just rolls his eyes.

"I'm Four, by the way. What's your name?"

The kid looks back at his shoes, lips firmly sealed. I almost just forget the whole thing and give up, but the kid's lack of response reminds me of myself, the night I met Amar. And something tells me I have to do this ― I have to pay forward the care that Amar showed me.

"A new session starts up next week. You sure you don't wanna join in? Or will I just see you hovering outside the door again?"

He is silent so long I almost do just leave. Then he says, "My dad would never let me. Even if I had the thirty bucks, he wouldn't let me sign up."

I nod slowly, because I can relate to that. And that thought makes me sick to my stomach. I don't know the specifics to what's going on in this kid's life, but he needs someone to cut him a break, I can see that much.

"Tell you what," I say. "You show up Monday and join in with the new class. Just come in the side door. If you don't tell anyone you haven't paid and aren't on the roster, I won't either. Nobody needs to know. But you'll learn a lot more using the punching bags with us than you will standing outside that door."

The kid's shoes seem to be just as fascinating to him as they have been this whole time, so I don't wait long for an answer I know I won't receive before walking away and getting in my car to go straight home and get ready for work.

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2016 | 10:45 AM | FOUR**

Talking with the kid who won't tell me his name on Monday set me back a day in my plans, but I made it to the art supply store yesterday afternoon. I was excited to pick out quality paints, some canvases, brushes, and a tabletop easel. I am anxious to give it all to Tris. Maybe I will show her that park nearby; she used to bring her paints with her once in a while when we would meet at our park back in Chicago.

I open up my closet and gaze at the ferris wheel painting on the wall there. Always modest, she deflects any compliments but the truth is, she's very talented. I can only assume that she is even better now, after having two more years to develop her skill. I am surprised that she parted with her supplies.

Maybe I should have gotten a gift bag for this stuff. No, that would be too much, it's not like it's her birthday. Though I suppose I could save this stuff for her birthday ― it's less than a month away. If I hadn't left her, if we were still together, our anniversary would have been next week but it's probably best not to remind her of that. Not to mention that Uriah mentioned something about _their_ anniversary coming up, this weekend or something. It makes me a little sick to realize that they have now been together longer than Tris and I ever were.

No, it's best to keep this low key anyway. I'm only trying to be her friend, so it's best not to make a big deal. Plus, maybe then she will sign up for some art classes at the community college. There's still time, school doesn't begin until next week. It's great that she found a job, but Tris has so much potential, always has. I always figured she would go to some great school ― maybe Northwestern so she wouldn't have to be far away from her mom. Things change, but there's still no reason for Tris to waste that brilliant mind of hers working in a pub.

I take a deep breath, grab the large plastic carrier bag of art supplies, and head out to the living room.

It's the usual scene: Tris curled on the couch, engrossed in her book. She doesn't seem to have noticed me yet, so I allow myself a moment to look her over. Her hair is pulled up in a messy ball at the crown of her head and her face is free of any make-up, just her naturally beautiful self. Her sun-kissed skin seems to glow against the narrow straps of her black tank top, and her cut-off jeans shorts give a nice view of her toned legs, and her worn red Chucks (I've noticed she owns several pairs of converse in different colors, and the red ones seem to have gotten the most wear) have been abandoned on the floor in front of the couch. She is so refreshingly down-to-earth.

She looks up when I clear my throat and find that I have no idea what to say to her. Do I just hand her the bag of art supplies? Give an explanation first?

"Did you need something?" Tris asks, not unkindly, when I have stood there staring at her for about ten seconds.

"Yeah, um, well. I got you something?" Way to go, Tobias, just stutter like an idiot. Tris furrows her eyebrows, looking confused. I cross the room and hold the bag out to her. "Here."

As she pulls the paints and other items out with a blank look on her face, I start to ramble. "I know the easel isn't that great, it's one of those ones made for kids but I don't know that much about this stuff, didn't want to pick for you. But the salesperson said that these are good paints. It seems weird, you with no paints, so…"

"Thanks," Tris says simply. I nod in response and she begins placing the items back in the shopping bag.

I sit down next to her on the couch and brace myself to apply Tori's advice. It won't be easy, talking about the past.

"It's weird, leaving home, isn't it?" I say. "When I left, I took a bus to Ohio and bought a car and then I just started driving. The car broke down in New Mexico and I lived in it for a while before I met this guy, Amar. He took me in."

"How did you end up here in Portland?" Tris asks. The fact that she seems interested in hearing about our time apart lifts my hopes.

"Well… the line of work I got into with Amar, it was dangerous. I knew it was but I didn't really care. Didn't feel like I had anything to lose. I had already run, like a coward, and lost you. There was nothing else for me, so it just didn't matter."

"What were you doing for work?" she asks.

I pause, not sure if I should answer. What I was doing was illegal, dangerous, and morally questionable. Is that really something I want her to know about?

"It's not important," I say. Tris huffs and rolls her eyes but I ignore it. "But it got Amar killed."

Her eyes widen. "But the specifics aren't important," she says sarcastically. "Seriously, Four, what did you get yourself into?"

"I told you, it's not important, Tris," I grit out. I want to tell her it's none of her fucking business, and I know it wouldn't shock her if I did. But this is exactly why I am having this conversation and dredging any of it up at all ― to let her in a bit, so that she might do the same.

"Why are you even telling me any of this if you're going to edit out every detail?" she scowls.

"Fine," I sigh. "Underground fighting ring. I was good, never lost a match, and I made decent money. But there was this one fighter who was just… brutal. I never went up against him. Amar was good at what he did, but not good enough. So when he fought Max…"

Tris looks sick. I have to get off this subject.

"Look, point is, Tris, I ended up here in Portland. Amar's boyfriend moved up here to be near his sister and they knew Zeke, who needed a roommate."

Tris chuckles. "Yeah, I remember the stories about Zeke's old roommate. Did Zeke ever tell you about the time the guy was wasted and peed in a box in Zeke's closet?"

"Yeah," I grin. "That was Eric, you know. The guy that was harassing you at that party?" Tris makes a face. "Anyway, I made it up here to Portland and it was a fresh start. So I decided to do it right this time. Made a couple of friends, started school so I could have a career… you could do that too, you know, Tris. I don't know what's been going on for you the last couple of years but you shouldn't give up on, well, on anything. At least take some art classes. You're so talented, Tris, and there's still time to sign up at the community college."

Her exasperated sigh tells me that I should have left that part alone.

"I'm a big girl, Four, I don't need anyone to tell me what to do. I'm a bit past looking for approval, thanks."

"What, so I should just watch you make choices you might regret and do nothing about it? You always wanted to go to college."

"I'm not the same person you knew. I'm not Beatrice. You left, things changed."

I laugh without humor. "Yeah, I know. You certainly make sure I can't forget it, don't you? Maybe if you'd tell me a little about what's happened to you―"

"Me?" she scoffs. I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You think I'm the one who should explain myself? Instead, _Four_ , how about this: why did you leave?" I think my heart actually stops. "You didn't even say anything. It's been over a month since I got here and still nothing. So, you want me to talk to you? Let's start with that. Just what were you running away from, Tobias?"

I cross my arms over my chest and stay frozen in place, mind racing. Tori told me I should tell Tris, but she didn't know just what she was asking me to talk about. I can't, I just can't. And I won't. Not even for Tris.

Tris stands there staring at me, and I stare silently at my feet, just like that boy did yesterday

"Yeah," Tris huffs. "That's what I thought." I don't look up as I hear her walk away, leaving the bag of paints on the coffee table.


	35. Ch 35: Opening Up

**Chapter 35  
** _ **Opening Up**_

 **SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2016 | 6:55 PM | TRIS**

My ankles are crossed on the dash of Uriah's car and my hand is out the window, the wind tickling my fingers. Uriah and I have just started the one-hour drive home from a carefree day in the Columbia River Gorge, celebrating our two-year anniversary.

My phone blares out the Darth Vader theme. My dad is calling. Again. I swear, he makes more effort to talk to me now than he did when we lived in the same house.

I quickly straighten up to grab it and silence it.

"You ever gonna answer him?" Uriah asks.

"Why would I want to do that?" I ask, putting the phone away in my bag before grabbing hold of Uriah's hand again.

Uriah shrugs. "I was only curious, Tris."

"That was a lot of fun today," I say, changing the subject. "Haven't had enough time with you lately, work schedules always getting in the way. And it's only about to get worse."

"I know, I've been missing you, too. But I agree, today was a lot of fun. So, you'd like to try it again sometime, then?" Uriah asks, smiling.

We tried windsurfing today, something we have never done before. It was really fun and we laughed a lot, then we went to a pizzeria for some pepperoni and pineapple and played arcade games together.

"Yeah," I say, "definitely would windsurf again. The pizza place, though… I don't know, I think I'll keep you away from arcade ticket counters from now on."

Uriah pouts. "That hat was awesome. I don't know what you had against it."

"The hat was ridiculous, and I would have had to pretend not to know you if you had worn it."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, at least those kids were happy when you made me give them all our tickets. But we can go to an arcade anywhere, I was asking about the windsurfing."

"I know," I say. "It was really fun, and I'd like to go out that way again to check out a few more of those trails and waterfalls we saw signs for. I'll have to try google and see if I can find some safe places for cliff jumping."

"Definitely. I think we're running out of warm weather, though."

"True. Ugh, what are we gonna do with ourselves once the weather gets bad? I can't stay holed up in that apartment with Four all the time," I sigh.

"Only an hour or so drive to the ski resorts. We need to decide which one to get season tickets for the lift. Zeke says Meadows and Timberline are good, but Ski Bowl is closer," Uriah says, comparing the nearby ski resorts.

"It's also cheaper by about a hundred dollars," I remind him.

"Shorter season. It's at a lower elevation."

I sigh. "That's true. It's just, it's already taking so long to save up to get our own place, Uri. The longer it takes, the longer we have to live with Four. As it is we're going to be stuck with him for what, another six months. I'll kick your ass if the extra cost for the lift tickets and gas is what bumps that up to seven."

"A longer snowboarding season would get us out of the apartment more, though," Uriah points out. I can't deny that he has a point there. "Look, Tris, I get it. I really do. The tension in that place makes my skin crawl sometimes."

I look at his face and see his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. "Maybe we can each pick up a few more hours at work? That's the other option, more money coming in," he shrugs.

I shake my head. "No. We thought it out very carefully, Uriah. This is our first term of college. If we want to do well, we need enough time to study and all that. If I'm working too many hours, I may as well not have paid my tuition, you know no one is helping me and I don't want loans," I remind him. "Besides, if we're working more hours we won't even have a day off each week to go up to the mountain, then why even bother with a season pass?"

"Yeah, I guess." Uriah eyes me in his peripheral. "So tell me again, Tris, why is it that I have to keep it secret that you're taking some classes?"

Shortly after we arrived in Portland, I decided to go ahead and sign up for classes at the local community college. I'm not quite going full time, just two classes on campus and one online course. I haven't decided on a major or anything; I don't yet know what I want to do with my life and am not in much rush to figure it out. But a lot of possibilities would be easier with a bit more education.

So I'm going to make a start at it, even though I'm not entirely committed to getting a degree.

"I just don't want the pressure, Schmoopy. You know that," I plead.

"Yeah, but it's not like you're gonna fail, Tris. You're so smart. And if it doesn't go well, so what? Hell, you could change your mind tomorrow and just skip it. Doesn't make you any less amazing."

I sigh. "Not everyone loves me unconditionally, Uriah. Four's already been badgering me. If I fail, or even if I just change my mind about trying out college classes, you think he's gonna let that go? God, I had enough of that living with Dad. And we are nowhere near ready to go find our own place ― you've said so yourself."

Uriah is the total opposite of my father: I can always count on him to support me. He never makes me feel like a failure or a disappointment. He accepts and loves me just as I am. Even when I was sure I was not going to go to college (mostly because it was the opposite of what Dad wanted me to do) he never criticized my decision at all.

Uriah frowns. "Has he kept bothering you about that?"

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.' I bite my lip. "He has this ― this picture in his head of who I am. He thinks he knows me, but he doesn't. Not anymore."

Uriah frowns, and hesitates before speaking. "Well, have you given him the chance?"

"Whose side are you on here?" I snap. I can't believe my boyfriend is suggesting I buddy up with my ex.

"Yours, of course. Always yours, Tris. And obviously I don't want you getting too close to him anyway."

"I should think not."

"Course not. Just, it's not like he's going anywhere, he's Zeke's best friend. You know how I hate it when things are tense."

"Yeah, I know. Makes your skin crawl." Guilt creeps into my stomach thinking about what an uncomfortable position Uriah is put in, living with both me and Four. He hates conflict.

"Like you said, he doesn't know you. But Tris, maybe that's the problem. You don't have to forget what he did, hell, you better not," he adds with a lopsided smile. "But we have to live with him, can't blame him for wanting to know the people he lives with. Could you maybe just give a little? Just to keep things civil?"

"Fine," I huff. Uriah runs his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand. "But I'm still not ready for everyone to know about the classes. Can you just keep it secret for now?"

Uriah smiles at me. "Of course I can. I wouldn't tell anyone anything you don't want me to, Tris, you know that."

"Yeah, I do. I love you."

"Love you too, Schmoopy," he grins before bringing our joined hands to his mouth and kissing the back of mine. "But what if someone sees you around campus though?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "I hardly know anyone in town, Uriah, who's gonna see me there?"

"Well," Uriah explains, "Marlene and Lynn are going to school there too, didn't I tell you that?"

I shake my head. "How do you even know?" I have only seen those girls once since that party when Uriah and I first got to Portland

"I've hung out with them a few times when you were working," Uriah reminds me. "You didn't think I was just sitting around the apartment waiting for you all those nights you're working?"

"Course not. I'm glad you're making friends. I guess I just didn't make the connection, that it was them you were hanging around with."

Uriah nudges me with his elbow. "Only a couple times, why, you jealous?"

I roll my eyes. "You want me to be?" I joke. Uriah laughs. "Nah, I trust you," I assure him. "We should invite them along if we find time to come back out to the Gorge."

"Definitely."

* * *

 **THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2016 | 3:30 PM | TRIS**

When I get home with my groceries on Thursday afternoon, Four is already back from his classes and sits at the kitchen table with a textbook open in front of him. "Hey, Tris," he says as I brush past into the kitchen and set my bag of groceries on the counter.

I fill the tea kettle and set it to boil on the stovetop before beginning to empty the shopping bag. I take out the box of hot chocolate mix first, leaving it next to the stove, then begin putting away the other items. My phone rings and I put away the vegetables in my hands into the crisper drawer of the refrigerator as quickly as possible.

In a hurry to catch the phone before it goes to voicemail, I don't take time to notice the name on screen before I have swiped my finger across it to answer the call, and pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I say.

"Beatrice," the caller says.

I growl, spinning away from the fridge. "Caleb," I say tersely, "how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Beatrice?"

"Fine, sorry, _Tris,_ " he says, emphasising my chosen name. I can practically hear his eyes rolling. I feel Four watching me as I stalk past him, then across the living room. "I have to say, I didn't think you'd actually answer."

"Me either," I mutter as I make my way onto the balcony. "Not to be rude, but… why are you calling me, Caleb? My birthday isn't for another two weeks, not that you'd be likely to remember."

"Don't tell me you're still mad at me. That was months ago, Be… Tris."

I snort. "And yet, it still doesn't sound like you've called to apologize."

"Okay, okay." Caleb's voice is placating. "You're right, I shouldn't have ratted you out."

After a few seconds of silence between us, I say, "Still waiting, Caleb."

"Sorry," he mutters.

I roll my eyes. "I'm guessing that's the best I'm gonna get, so I guess we'll move on. How's Boston?"

"Great! I just aced an inorganic chemistry test and I'll be taking the MCAT this spring," Caleb answers with that gushing tone of voice it always gets when he gets the chance to brag about his life at Harvard. The public colleges in Oregon start more than a month after many other colleges, such as Harvard. "What about you? What are you up to in… where was it, Seattle?"

"Portland," I correct him. "I've got a job, new roommate. I like it here." I am in no hurry to give my brother any specifics, so I move the conversation along. "That's not why you called, though."

"Well, not the only reason," Caleb admits. "Dad says he's been calling and you haven't answered."

"...And?"

"Come on, Tris. He's concerned for you." More like wants to control my life. "And there are things he needs to talk to you about."

"I can't imagine what."

"Then maybe you should answer next time he calls, and find out."

I zip up my hoodie, it's chilly out here today. "I'll think about it." I have no such intention. "Was there anything else?"

"Well, no, not really, but―"

"Right," I snap. Of course he only called as an errand for Dad, no surprise there. "Well, good luck on your MCAT, Caleb. I gotta go."

"Beatrice―"

I quickly end the call and shove my phone in my pocket before my brother can prolong the conversation any further. Chewing on my lip ring and running a hand through my hair, I look out at the neighborhood for a minute, watching children riding bikes down the street and a neighbor across the street weeding a bed of flowers. It doesn't take long before I feel ready to go inside and act as if nothing happened.

I walk back into the living room, closing the sliding glass door behind me. Four is in the kitchen and looks up when he hears me. "How's your brother?" he says, pouring some milk into a mug then stirring with a spoon.

I shrug. "He's fine. Same old Caleb," I answer.

Four comes out from behind the counter, carrying two mugs. He holds one out to me. "Your water finished while you were out there. Figured you wanted hot chocolate. I cooled it down a bit with some milk."

I am unable to hold back a small smile as I realize that he still remembers that I like my hot chocolate not-too-hot. "Thanks." Our fingers brush as I accept the mug from him.

"You're welcome, Tris," he says. After a pause, he goes back to sit at the table. I hesitate for a moment before deciding to sit in a chair opposite him. "Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Shoot," I say. Since my conversation with Uriah on Sunday, I have tried not to brush Four off every time he speaks to me. As a result, he has seemed to already become a little more comfortable around me. I can tell Uriah is relieved that the tension in the apartment is beginning to ease.

Four sips his own steaming hot chocolate, then sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Why do you go by Tris, instead of Beatrice?"

I stare at him in contemplation. Not because I don't know, but because this is the most personal thing we have spoken about since the night of that party, when I told him about my mother's death. My instinct is to tell him to mind his own business, or to just get up and retreat to my bedroom. But I know I told Uriah I would try to give a little. The question is, how much?

"Seems like an odd question from you, of all people, _Four._ " He looks sheepish. "After my mom died I just… things didn't work out well for Beatrice and I wanted to be someone else."

Four opens his mouth to say something and I don't want him to question what I just said, so I continue. "A few weeks after I met Uriah, when my mom and his dad were in the hospital, he was trying to convince me to go out and have some fun. Wanted to go to a party," I explain. "And the way he got me to go was to convince me that we could be someone else for the night, new identities, forget about everything that was really going on. So I said I would be Tris, and he decided to be Rocco."

I see a spark of recognition in Four's eye and remember Uriah using that name the second time Four called me. I continue, "Then a week or so later, we took a day off from visiting the hospital. We met up with some friends of his and he introduced me as Tris. We went cliff diving for the first time that afternoon. Everyone else looked nervous and I went first. That feeling when I was falling, the adrenaline rush, all of it… I felt brave and I felt free. And when I came up for air the first thing I heard was Uriah shouting, 'First jumper, Tris!'" I smile at the memory.

Then I look at Four and see that he looks serious. I haven't yet decided whether to ask why, when I hear the front door opening and the clomping of Uriah's boots.

"Ooh, is that hot chocolate?" Uriah asks, a smile on his face. He drops his backpack next to the couch. "Is there more hot water?"

"Yeah," Four says, the stony look on his face easing. "On the stove."

"Sweet," Uriah grins. He heads into the kitchen and starts making himself his own mug of hot chocolate

Four gets his highlighter back out and looks back to his textbook as Uriah and I talk for a moment about his day at school. Then the conversation changes subject.

"So," Uriah says, sitting down with us at the table, "Zeke's birthday is coming up next Sunday." He grins at me. "You know what that means, Tris."

I grin back. "Yep!"

Four has stopped with his highlighter hovering over the textbook. He looks up. "We don't have to have a party, do we?" he groans.

"Nope," Uriah says. "Tris and I promised months ago that we would go skydiving with him. Wanna come with?"

"Skydiving." Four's voice is sharp. "You're going skydiving." He looks at me, his eyes stormy. "Are you crazy, Beatrice?!"

"No," I say sternly. "And don't call me Beatrice, _Tobias_."

"Tris. Whatever. Do you realize how dangerous this is? What, you wanna feel free at the risk of your own life? Riding motorcycles, jumping off cliffs, getting yourself arrested for surfing. Drinking yourself senseless. Zip lining." His voice gets louder with every word. "Now you're jumping out of a fucking airplane?! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Woah, hold on," Uriah says, seeing the anger flashing in my eyes and trying to calm both of us down.

"You're the one who got her started on all this!" Four rages at him.

"Leave him alone, Four! This is between me and you. Uriah, just leave it." Uriah holds his hands up in surrender and gets up to move to the couch. I look back to Four, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him in defiance. "Nothing is _wrong_ with me. You sound like Caleb and my dad."

"Well, for once, I think they have some sense!"

"You're ridiculous. And it's safe enough, for your information. I've done it before."

" _I'm_ ridiculous? It may be a calculated risk, but you're still tempting fate every time you pull this shit, Tris."

"I'm living my life the way I want to and I have every right. It's none of your concern."

Four pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to stave off a headache. Across the room I see Uriah fidgeting uncomfortably on the couch, trying to focus on his phone in his hands.

"And you're one to talk," I spit. "You told me yourself how you got by after you left Chicago. You gonna tell me you weren't in any danger living on the streets? That you weren't in _even more_ danger fighting for money? How is what I'm doing any worse?"

"That's completely different."

"Really? Is it?"

Uriah gets up and grabs his coat. As he heads to the door he gives me a meaningful look and I nod at him. I know he can't stand sitting here while we argue and is going to get some air.

"I was doing what I had to in order to survive. You're doing this shit for some adrenaline rush. Next thing I know you'll be out there car surfing or playing chicken. What if something really does happen to you, Tris? Do you get that you have people who care about you?"

"Yeah, you cared so much that you abandoned me. You, of all people, know what that feels like."

"Don't bring her into this," Four growls. I know bringing up is his mother is a low blow, but right now, I really don't care. He's on his feet by now, pacing back and forth in front of the table.

"And how would it have been any different if you had gotten yourself killed in one of those fights, Tobias? How would the people who cared for _you_ have felt?"

"I didn't have anyone who cared about me."

"You had Amar," I say. "You had me."

"I didn't have you, Tris. I realized one day how dangerous it was and you were all I thought of. I called you and you didn't want to talk to me."

"Again… because you left me! You know how you could have easily avoided needing to risk your life every day to survive? By not running away in the first place!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about Tris. _No idea._ "

"Because _you won't tell me_!" I shout.

Four growls, his hands balled in fists and arms stiff at his sides. He looks like he wants to punch something. He suddenly turns, grabs his jacket and begins to pull it on. "I'm going to the gym," he mutters.

"Fine," I say. "Run away again. It's what you do best." He glares at me. "The thing is, Four, you don't have to tell me why you left. The fact is, you did. You left when I needed you most and if you had really cared, if you had ever trusted me, you would have told me back then. So, it doesn't really matter. Keep it to yourself forever for all I care."

I don't wait for him to leave before turning to stalk back to my room, but I a few seconds later, I hear the door slam.

* * *

 _A/N: Okay, so… is it a bit frustrating that they can't get along with each other? Yep. I know. But let's be real here: Tris and Four are two stubborn people who both have some issues that aren't going to be resolved that easily, and it's going to take a bit of blowing up at each other for them to figure it out._


	36. Ch 36: Destined for Something More

_A big thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, or especially reviewed this story so far! I think you'll like this chapter. Let me know what you think, I love to hear from you!_

* * *

 **Chapter 36  
** _ **Destined for Something More**_

 **MONDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2016 | 6:55 PM | FOUR**

"I can't believe you didn't come. It was amazing, Four. It's like… sensory overload. I could see everything in a way I never have before, and the cold air on your face and the wind rushes past your ears like, it's deafening. Then the parachute opens and everything goes so quiet. You have to come next time. And bring a date." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Because the adrenaline rush, the night I had with Shauna after that―"

"Don't want to hear about that," I interrupt.

"Even if you don't want to hear it, you should come next time and take advantage," Zeke grins.

I'm having a drink with Zeke at his place to celebrate his birthday. Zeke turned 21 yesterday, and he went skydiving with Shauna, Tris and Uriah before they all went out to a bar. He says it was incredible. I say they're completely insane.

"Zeke," I say, "you will never, in a million years, get me to go skydiving with you. Hell would freeze over before I would ever jump out of a plane. And even then." I shake my head. "You all are lunatics."

"Why? It's safe."

I scoff. "Yeah, unless your parachute doesn't open. Equipment can malfunction, Zeke."

I have looked up the statistics, I know the relative safety of skydiving. Thirty deaths per year in the United States, with the additional risk of broken bones, dislocated limbs and, less frequently, spinal cord injuries, paralysis and traumatic brain injuries. I know that it's nearly as safe as childbirth. But the tendency toward multiple jumps per day increase the risk to an individual and I know that Zeke, Tris and the others jumped five times yesterday. If the equipment wasn't checked thoroughly enough for safety, if the parachute didn't deploy, if…

And that isn't the only risk Tris takes on a regular basis.

But this conversation isn't about Tris, it's about Zeke, I remind myself.

"Aw, I didn't know you cared so much," Zeke jokes. He raises an eyebrow. "Or maybe it's not me you're worried about." A grunt is my only response. "How's that going, anyway?"

"How is what going, Zeke?" I ask.

Zeke laughs. "You know what. Living with my brother and Tris."

"It's fine," I say automatically.

"Is it?" he asks.

"Why? Has Uriah said something?"

"Uriah doesn't like it when people argue, and he doesn't like it when Tris is upset."

I run my hand down my face. "I loved her, Zeke," I admit. "And she has changed so much, but I still care about her and she's just tempting fate." Zeke drinks his beer and doesn't reply. I clear my throat. "So, speaking of birthdays, Tris's is coming up. What death-defying stunt is she planning for that?"

Zeke chuckles. "Don't you two talk at all? The apartment isn't that big."

"Yeah, well, I think we have both been avoiding certain topics since our last argument."

In the couple of weeks since our screaming match, Tris and I have actually gotten along well, quickly falling back into an easy routine of mornings reading together on the couch if I don't have classes, and light banter as we watch late night television together after work. On the occasion that Uriah is home at the same time as Tris and me, sometimes we will even all play a card game together. But we both carefully avoid any mention of the stunts that she classes as "fun", and I really don't know what she has gotten up to on her days off, other than skydiving with Zeke.

"You sure you wanna know?" Zeke laughs. I shrug. "Bungee jumping."

I shudder. "Are you going with them?" I ask.

"Yep. So are a few others. I take it you aren't interested."

"Definitely not," I say, scowling.

The conversation moves on to other topics, like work, and school, and the boxing class I teach, which makes me think of the boy I invited to join for free, who I have learned is called Fernando. But in the back of my mind I can't get Tris's birthday out of my mind.

I also think about how she holds back from telling me all these things that Zeke knows about, like simple things, like her birthday plans. And I realize that even if I don't like it, I want her to trust me and talk to me. I want to be her friend. I want to be more than that, but I'll take real friendship over nothing.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2016 | 10:30 AM | TRIS**

On Saturdays, I work in the evening, but Uriah works during the day. Sometimes I will go out with other friends; I get on especially well with Shauna's sister Lynn, so sometimes we will find something to do together. If I need to do some shopping, I go out with Christina, who reminds me quite a lot of Madison with her obsession with clothes and unending candor. Some weekends I hang out with Shauna at the apartment she shares with Zeke.

But today I don't have plans with anyone. Even Four isn't here, and from my spot on the couch with a book in my hand, I am surprised to find how much I miss his presence. I have grown accustomed to our quiet mornings together even if we often say little to one another. It used to be awkward and tense, but lately it has transformed into something comforting and reliable.

I don't know what to make of that. Several weeks have passed since the day that my carefully controlled interactions with Four devolved into a screaming match. He left, apparently to go to the gym, but I didn't see him or Uriah for the rest of the night. Uriah told me afterward that he had met up with a friend to get away from the strained atmosphere of the apartment, but I have no idea what Four got up to.

For the first few days after, Four and I barely spoke. Then on the third day, when I was reading on the couch as I do most mornings, Four sat down beside me with two mugs of hot chocolate. He made mine with a splash of cold milk, again remembering how I preferred my hot drinks from when we were younger. We sat there and read our books and didn't say anything. But when I was done reading, I cleared my throat and thanked him for the hot chocolate, and he smiled and welcomed me. And after that, it was like we had never fought.

After that, we stopped avoiding one another. I began to include him if I went to pick up some take away for dinner, and he would ask if I needed anything from the grocery store or pharmacy when he left to run an errand. We both stopped spending as much time holed up in our bedrooms. It seems maybe this living arrangement could work after all.

I put my book down and sigh, a little annoyed at the fact that I am missing Four's presence now. But I need a distraction. My birthday is coming up in two days. I will be nineteen years old, and it will be the third birthday that passes without my mom. I will spend tomorrow with Uriah, and I don't know what he has planned. But, in the meantime, time alone is only allowing the melancholy to seep into my awareness.

I miss my mother, and I hope she would be proud of me.

I sit with my book in my lap, letting memories wash over me, replaying precious words spoken to me as I cuddled next to her in the hospital bed. Yes, I tell myself. Mom would be proud of me. Just like Uriah always tells me she would be.

Last year on my birthday, I sat at her grave and told her of all the adventures of the previous year, all the things she would have loved to hear about. And I wish I could do the same now. I would have so much to tell her.

Relief washes over me when I hear the front door open and Four walks in. "Hey," he says. "Are you free today?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Yes," I say, a bit cautious at the hopeful look on his face. "What's up?"

He smiles. "A little birthday surprise."

* * *

I didn't know where Four would take me, but I never would have guessed that he would pull up in front of a tattoo parlor. I can't help the smile that creeps onto my face. Though I have pierced both my lip and belly button, and I was present when Uriah had a snake tattooed behind his ear, my own skin is still free of ink. It isn't that I have ever been opposed to getting a tattoo, I just hadn't decided what I would want to permanently brand my skin.

I hop out of the car. "Tattoos," I say as I shut the door.

"Yeah," Four says. I see his hand flinch toward me as we start toward the shop's door, but he quickly lets it drop. "I told you about Amar, and his boyfriend, George, right?" I nod. "Well, his sister owns this place. They've always kind of looked out for me, ever since Amar has been gone."

The bell chimes as we walk in, and Shauna grins at me from behind the desk before she comes out to hug me. I knew she worked at a tattoo parlor, I guess this must be how George met Zeke and knew to introduce him to Four.

"So he talked you into it," Shauna says, smiling.

I shrug. "Not really. He just said he had a birthday surprise for me, made me curious what it was."

"Well," Shauna says, "you can look around if you want, let me know if you need any help. Tori will be ready for you in a few minutes."

Four stands back with his arms crossed as I walk along the perimeter, trailing my fingers over drawings of flowers and snakes, tribal symbols and the odd landscape, thinking about what I want my tattoo to mean. Thinking again about my mother. I stop in front of the silhouette of a bird in flight, solid black, and trace my fingers over it, remembering something I saw only a few times. My mother had a tattoo, a bird much like this one. It was on her ribcage, a few inches below her armpit, usually hidden by her clothing. But a few times, when she took Caleb and me swimming, I saw a glimpse of it when she raised her arms over her head.

"It's a raven," a voice behind me says. "Pretty, right?"

I turn to see the woman standing there. She is probably about ten years older than me, with long hair in dreadlocks, black with streaks of silver.

"Well, hello there. I'm Tori." She smiles. "And you must be Tris. I've heard a lot about you." I glance at Four, who looks away, but I also see Shauna smiling behind him. "Want a tattoo?"

I think again of my mother, of the same memories that replayed in my head earlier this morning. I can honor my mother with this mark to my skin, and keep a reminder of her near me always. It will place another wedge between me and my father and brother but I know that what I have in mind would make Mom smile.

"Yes," I say. "Two of these flying birds. And ― do you have a pen and paper?"

* * *

My wrist is sore, but I smile softly as I look at the new marks there before allowing Tori to bandage it. Two solid black ravens fly slightly apart from one another across the skin of my inner wrist, and below the script reads, " _destined for something more,"_ a reminder of one of my last conversations with my mom. The skin around it is red and puffy, but I know that once it heals, it will be beautiful. And I will never regret it.

Tori gives me instructions on aftercare, all of it familiar from when Uriah got his tattoo. She sits on a stool facing me. While she tattooed my skin, Tori asked about how I was settling in here, and Four came up more than once.

"Well," Tori says, "it has been a pleasure to meet you, Tris, and to finally put a face to the name."

I hesitate before asking the question that has been on my mind since moments after meeting Tori. "You said you've heard a lot about me."

"Yes," Tori says, giving nothing else away.

"Was it…" I look away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Has Four been talking a lot about me or something?"

I am nervous for her answer. Things are finally becoming easier between Four and me, but there is so much history. Sometimes he will reach out like he is going to take my hand, or lead me with his hand low on my back. He always catches himself, but I fear that he still hopes to get back what we lost, and that would only complicate things. I can't go there with him. Not just because of Uriah, but because he has broken my trust and I am not sure it can be repaired.

Tori looks thoughtful. "He has," she says. "I know it was a shock for you to see him again. It was equally surprising for him to run into you, as well."

I bite my lip. I have been so wrapped up in how I feel about Tobias ― Four ― barging back into my life, I never really thought about how he felt about the situation. After all, he had a choice in our separation. I didn't.

"I didn't really think about how it would affect him," I admit.

"He's trying to make things right with you, Tris," she says gently. "I know it's not easy. You have both changed, and he knows that. But maybe you could give him a chance."

I acknowledge her words with a nod. "I'm trying to," I mumble.

I show my tattoo to Four and Shauna when I reach the front desk. Shauna coos about how beautiful it is, and Four nods his approval. "What does it mean?" Four asks, his dark blue eyes full of curiosity and sincerity.

It takes me a moment to come up with my answer. Because this tattoo is so personal to me, its meaning so near to my heart, and I am not sure there is anyone I will fully explain it to, besides Uriah.

"It's a reminder," I say, "of a day I never want to forget." There is an air of finality in my words and voice, and Shauna and Four do not press further.

Shauna and Tori talk for a moment before Shauna goes to the register, Four following.

"You really don't have to pay, Four," I protest. I know tattoos aren't cheap, and this doesn't feel right to me.

"Nonsense," Four replies. "This is for your birthday, Tris."

"It's too much," I argue.

"No, it isn't," Four says. "I missed two years that I need to make up for."

"Besides," Shauna interrupts, "Tori gives him a good discount."

I relent, even though I feel like it is against my better judgment. But I'm trying to let Four be a part of my life again, and I suppose accepting a birthday gift is a part of that.

And I realize that even if he is trying to win back my friendship and my trust, this time is different. Until now, Four would buy me paints, remembering a hobby that I haven't practiced since shortly after he left. Or he would bring home Swedish meatballs from IKEA, not knowing that I got sick after eating them a year ago and haven't been able to stand the sight and smell of them since. But not this time.

For the first time, I feel like Four is beginning to see and accept me as I am now, instead of who I was then, and I think maybe, just maybe, we can become friends again after all.


	37. Ch 37: Some Things Don't Change

**Chapter 37  
** _ **Some Things Don't Change**_

 **FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2016 | 12:15 AM | TRIS**

I have to read _The Grapes of Wrath_ for my English Lit class. I cannot concentrate on this so-called American classic to save my life, and it's not because I just got home from a closing shift waitressing. It's always been this way, ever since high school, every time I've been required to read a book by this particular author. I drop the open book on my chest and release my frustration with a growl. Maybe I'll just print out the spark notes when I'm on campus tomorrow. I really should buy a printer. I could ask Four to use his; Uriah has already chipped in for ink cartridges to print his own schoolwork. But then I would have to tell Four that I'm in school.

I hear someone come in the front door. It could be either of the guys; Four usually gets home from work about now, and Uriah went to a party tonight with Lynn, Marlene, and a couple of other new friends from school. I have been laying so that I take up nearly the whole couch, so I sit up and see that it is Four on his way in from work. He greets me as he puts something away in the fridge, and I cross my legs beneath me as he makes his way to the couch with a beer in each hand.

"Long day?" I ask, setting my book down on the coffee table.

"A bit," he says. He nods at the book and raises his eyebrows. " _The Grapes of Wrath?_ I know a lot has changed, Tris, but I never in a million years thought I'd see you _choose_ to read Steinbeck. You couldn't even make it through _Of Mice and Men._ "

I open the beer he hands me and take a slow sip, buying myself time. His words spark an uneasy feeling inside me. Not just because I am unsure how to explain my attempt to read this book, but because he is right.

"Uriah must be reading it for school," I lie. "Saw it sitting around, thought I'd give it a go."

"Never knew you to be so masochistic."

"Well, like you said, Four. I've grown up, changed. Thought maybe my taste in literature had matured as well, but it seems not."

"You still hate it, then."

"Yes," I agree, smiling. I change the subject. "So, you said it was a long day. Anything in particular?"

Four sighs and turns so he is facing me, knee bent on the couch. "You know that boxing class I teach?"

I nod. Once we started getting along better and I noticed his absence, Four explained that he teaches a youth boxing class at the community center. But he has never told me anything more than the simple fact that this is where he spends his Monday afternoons.

"There's this kid who used to watch from outside the door. His dad won't pay for the class but I just have this feeling about him…"

"What sort of feeling?" I ask.

Four only shrugs. "Anyway, I told him to come in the back door, join the class, I won't tell anyone he hasn't paid."

"That was kind of you," I say.

Four chuckles. "People don't often call me kind," he says. I smile and playfully punch his arm and Four grins back before his face becomes serious again "Anyway, he missed class this Monday, and tonight when I was driving home I saw him sitting out in the park without a coat. I don't know, I'm just...concerned. He has shown up without a coat before but it's not as cold in the middle of the afternoon. So I stopped and offered him my coat, but he wouldn't take it."

I bite my lip, deep in thought. I know Four is thinking the same as I am, that this child isn't being properly cared for. Perhaps due to poverty, perhaps something more. "I would be worried, too," I admit. "Have you tried talking to him?"

Four shakes his head and looks away, almost like he is staring off. "I don't think he would like that. Once he started coming to class, it took two weeks just to get him to tell me his name."

Four looks at me again, like I hold all the answers. But I don't have any more idea than he does. "I don't know, Four. Just take it slow, I guess. Try to earn his trust. I know you want to help him right now but if he's so closed off…"

"Yeah," Four sighs. He turns so his feet both touch the floor again, and I notice how close he is. Six inches. I am very aware of that fact, but Four doesn't seem to notice. He reaches to grab the remote off the coffee table, but just sits there with the remote in his hand for a moment. "Thank you, Tris," he says.

"I didn't do anything," I protest.

"Yeah," he says, looking at me with a half-smile, "you did."

I reach for my book again and flip lazily through the pages as Four turns on the TV and begins to flip slowly through the channels. I don't last long at all before I toss the book on the coffee table with disdain and stare at the television instead.

"Why do we have cable?" I ask him. "There's never anything good on, anyway."

"I don't know," Four shrugs. "Zeke had it when I moved in, I guess I just figured you and Uriah would want it so I never canceled."

"Well, Uri and I don't watch it much, either," I point out. "We have internet, and netflix. We could just stream what we want instead. Save a bunch of money every month."

Four doesn't reply and I realize that he is frozen, staring at the TV without so much as blinking. I glance back at the screen, realizing that he has halted his channel surfing, and there I see footage of Marcus Eaton shaking hands with someone.

"Marcus," I mutter angrily, remembering all the hassle he gave me back in Chicago.

"He's going to run for office," Four murmurs, shellshocked. "U.S. Senate."

I search my mind and remember that there had been some scandal going on with one of Illinois' senators. Marcus's deceptively charming smile on-screen spurs me to action and I grab the remote from Four's hands, quickly changing the channel to Comedy Central.

"I don't care what we watch," I grumble, "as long as I don't have to see Marcus Eaton's face."

This is what finally pulls Four out of his trance. "Why?" he asks me, his voice sounding harsh.

"I wouldn't think you would mind that I don't like him, you wouldn't even tell him where you were," I snap.

Four shakes his head, and he doesn't move away from me, but I don't miss the stone-faced mask that falls over his face. "I don't _mind_ , Tris. But I'm a little confused. I don't remember you having a problem with him before."

Although Four and I kept our relationship quiet back in Chicago, Marcus was a friend of my father's, and Mom would have Marcus over for dinner from time to time. He only occasionally brought Tobias along, and every time I asked about it, Tobias would brush my question off. I never pushed the issue but once Marcus fixated on me, I wished I would have. I have suspected more and more that the reason Four ran had something to do with Marcus, but it has long been clear that Four doesn't want to discuss it with me.

"Things change, Four. I thought you had figured that out by now."

"When it involves my father," Four says, "I need to know what happened, Tris." He is trying to appear patient and calm, but I know him too well to miss the tension coiling inside him.

I consider brushing Four off. But if the tables were turned, I would want to know, too. He has been making an effort. I can too. But I am nervous, and my palms sweat, and I wipe them on my pants.

"A few months after you left, Marcus found out about us. Someone at school told him. So he was convinced that I knew where you were, or at least had heard from you. I told him he was wrong, that we were friends but I didn't even rate high enough for a goodbye, and that I hadn't heard from you, but he didn't believe me." Four abruptly stands up from the couch and begins pacing the room. My eyes follow him everywhere he goes. "He wouldn't leave me alone about it, told my dad that we had been sneaking around, and about seeing me and Uri outside a club late at night. He kept showing up. He would wait for me outside work, or pop out of the shadows when I got out of my car when I got home. Come over on some pretense when Dad was home only to try and intimidate me into giving up information on you. It got bad enough that Dad actually got protective of me, if you can believe it, and defended me. He threatened to file for a restraining order and Marcus left me alone after that."

Four stops in front of the coffee table and looks at me, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He is making me nervous. I stand and slowly walk toward him. "And that's all? He didn't do anything else?" he asks quietly.

I look at him in confusion. "No, nothing else," I say slowly. His gaze bores into me, stripping me bare. "That was all, Four." As if the stalking and harassment wasn't enough.

Four closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. His hand finds mine, and I let him take them. "Does he know where you are now? Does your dad?"

"Uh," I say, "I left in a hurry, I didn't really give details. When Caleb last called he had forgotten what state I was even in. He thought Seattle. So I don't know, Dad might not remember either, since I didn't even say goodbye."

Four's eyebrows furrow at that, but he doesn't press for details. "You had heard from me though, by the time Marcus stopped bothering you. You lied for me."

"I did."

"Why?" His eyes are searching my face. I don't know what he expects to find there.

"If you wanted him to know anything, you would have contacted him yourself. I don't know, I guess I trusted that there was a reason you didn't want contact with him."

Four takes the last step toward me and wraps his arms around me. I slowly return the gesture, allowing him the comfort he seems desperate for, his nose in my hair.

"Thank you," he whispers.


	38. Ch 38: Paint and Steinbeck

_A/N: If you love Steinbeck, sorry for picking on him. I didn't know what other author to make Tris hate, since Steinbeck happens to be the one that I personally am literally incapable of reading. Anyway! This is late. Sorry. Writing is not coming easily to me these past couple of weeks. It happens sometimes, it will get better, can't promise that the next one will come any quicker though. So, thanks for being patient! I appreciate everyone who has read, favorited, followed or taken a minute to leave me a review!_

* * *

 **Chapter 38  
** _ **Paint and Steinbeck**_

 **MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2016 | 10:15 AM | TRIS**

Uriah's first ever job was at a grocery store, and he was fired on the third day. He insists on taking responsibility for that, which is good, but I still feel at least partially to blame. It was the first time I tried visiting him at work and, well, Uriah is easily distracted… which led to him knocking over a rack of wine bottles. Seven of them shattered all over the floor. Apparently the manager was already less than impressed with Uriah and that was the last straw. When he got his second job, at a gas station, I made sure to go elsewhere for fuel.

That's probably why I have yet to visit the sporting goods store where Uriah works. Even when I saw the leftovers still neatly packaged in the fridge, I hesitated. But he was so looking forward to bringing his favorite Chinese dish for lunch, and he has been at Deek & Brian's for three months without issue, so I wrapped the food in a plastic shopping bag and placed it carefully into my backpack before hurrying out the door forty-five minutes before I would usually leave for class.

Even now that I have just parked my bike on the curb on Stark Street I am nervous to go in. Reminding myself that he has invited me to visit many times now, that his bosses are much more lax than that asshole supermarket manager, and wanting to get out of the neverending rain, I check for traffic and race across the street.

The store is large with plenty of natural light streaming in through high windows, despite the gloomy gray of the sky outside. There are areas for water sports, fishing, snowboards and skiing, to name a few. I only get a moment to take the place in before I hear Uriah's voice.

"Tris!" he calls out. He is coming out of a storeroom with a large box in his hands. He quickly maneuvers behind a counter and sets it down before he bounces through the store to meet me. We hug and I feel his lips briefly press against my forehead.

"You forgot your lunch," I inform him.

"You weren't afraid you'd get me fired?" he smirks.

"Yes, actually, I was. So let's stay away from anything breakable."

Uriah laughs. "Let me introduce you to everyone, and then I can ask my boss if I can take my break early," he says. "Plus, I just set something aside for you for this weekend!" I can't help smiling at the energy he exudes. Sometimes he reminds me of an overexcited puppy.

There are three other guys and a girl on shift. I am a little overwhelmed by the repeated nice-to-finally-meet-yous; it's obvious that Uriah has talked a lot about me, which makes me smile. I know my coworkers have heard plenty about him, too, though they all know him as he comes in to the pub fairly often.

Even the part-owner seems to know me when Uriah goes to ask for his break. "So, Uriah says you two are heading up to Meadows this weekend. Ever been snowboarding on a real mountain?" Bryan teases.

"No, just the little hills near Chicago," I admit, "but I can't wait!"

"I don't know why we never made it up to that glacier," Uriah frowns.

I poke him in the side. "Because we have jobs now, and there were too many summery things to do while it was nice out."

"Sounds like you two had quite the summer," Bryan says. "Uriah, why don't you take a break. Show your girl that gear you set aside for her yesterday."

Uriah thanks his boss and leads me behind a counter. I pull his lunch out of my backpack and set it on the counter while Uriah pulls a box out from below.

"First of all, I've got…" Uriah holds up a pair of ski goggles and gestures to it like a game show host showing off a prize. "Ski goggles! I know, so exciting, and these are used but they're really good ones. I can get a really good deal on them. You'll need them for our trip up the mountain this weekend."

I inspect the goggles. "Thanks! These look great."

He goes on to show me the other gear he picked out for me ― he has completely outfitted me for the season, and it's all what I would have picked for myself. He knows me so well. I can tell he has been gathering up this stuff for a while, there's no way he found just the right things at these bargain prices all in one go.

Uriah leans against the counter. "So," he says, "Lynn and Marlene are going to the nickel arcade tonight and invited us along. You wanna go?"

I always wish I got to hang out with our new friends more often, but working nights often leaves me out of the fun. I'm off work tonight, but I know that I should work on that English paper. Despite trying to get a head start on _Grapes of Wrath_ a couple weeks ago, I still haven't finished the stupid book and I have to write ten pages on it by Friday. The thought of it stresses me out, and once again I entertain the idea of just reading the spark notes on it, even though I am fairly certain the instructor wasn't bluffing when she warned us off of that shortcut. It would be better to actually read the book, so that is my top priority this afternoon.

"As long as I can get something done on that English Lit paper. I'm still only halfway through the book. I hate Steinbeck," I complain. "I really want to come, though."

"Still having trouble with that?" Uriah frowns.

"Yep." I have always learned easily, so it is frustrating to struggle so much on an assignment and I don't quite know what to do. Uriah, while school was never really his "thing", has a bit more experience making it through these sorts of challenges. "I want to at least get a passing grade on this paper. Any ideas ?"

"Spark notes?"

"It's my last resort," I sigh.

"You're really smart, so I'm sure you can do it." Uriah's tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth as he thinks about my problem. He has been encouraging me for weeks but I haven't made much progress and now I am running out of time. My heart lifts with hope when Uriah's eyes light up. "I have an idea," he says.

"I'm ready to try just about anything," I answer, practically begging him to give me any help he can.

"Well," he says, "once, in high school, we were reading Shakespeare and I couldn't understand any of it. So I read the spark notes instead, but then it wasn't enough to get all the quotes and stuff I needed, right?" I nod, encouraging him to continue. "But the thing is, when I already had read the summaries of the chapter and understood the plot, it was so much easier to understand the play when I went back to read it. So what if you read the summary first before each chapter then just skimmed the actual book?"

"That might actually work!" I tackle him in a hug to show my appreciation. "Thank you, I'll try that, then maybe we can go out tonight if I actually make some progress."

"No problem, Schmoopy." I can hear the smile in his voice. "I hate to say this, but I have to get back to work."

I pout my lip, which Uriah laughs at. "Fine," I whine. "Actually, I have to get to class anyway. See you tonight?"

"Yep, I should be home by 7. Do good at school."

"I'll try. See you tonight." We exchange a short kiss and pull away. "I love you."

"Love you too, babe."

* * *

 **MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2016 | 3:15 PM | TRIS**

It is still raining when I get home from school. Portland has a reputation for rainy weather. I knew that before I came here, but knowing something is different from living it. It doesn't pour for twenty minutes then stop. No, it just drizzles. All day, every day, with an unending ceiling of gray overhead. The summer was beautiful, but now that we are well entrenched in autumn, it's getting hard to remember what I have to look forward to. I can hardly wait to use our recently purchased season ski lift tickets when we go snowboarding this weekend. I feel like I have been cooped up inside for too long.

My jeans are soaked through by the time I pull my bike into its usual spot at the edge of the parking lot. I grab my book bag and trudge up the stairs, thinking about the paper I need to write for English Lit. I want to go out with Uriah, Marlene and Lynn tonight, but I really need to get some work done first. Hopefully Uriah's suggestion will prove helpful.

As I drop off my bag in my bedroom, I can hear the shower running and know that Four must be home; Uriah works until six tonight. With my school materials safely tucked away, I go back to the kitchen for a snack. A few minutes later I am carrying a bottle of water, string cheese and a bowl of grapes back to my bedroom.

I am about to pass the bathroom door when it opens and Four begins to step out.

He is wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist.

Oh, God. No matter how angry and hurt I have been because of this man, something I could certainly never deny is that Tobias has always been dead sexy. But now… he still has that lean body type, not much bulk, but his muscles are more defined than I remember. His skin is a smooth warm olive against his white bath towel, and I can see that the tattoo that I have noticed creeping onto his neck licks at his shoulders as well. A sort of fuzzy feeling swims in my head and there's an entirely unwelcome flutter in my stomach as my eyes rake over him, taking him all in. I don't want to check him out like this, yet I cannot seem to stop myself.

I'm not listening to what he's saying, but I can guess the general subject when he holds his towel closed with one hand before leaning down to start picking up the spilled grapes. I should help him, but now I'm entranced by the artwork on his back.

"Tris?"

I realize I am just staring at him. "Uh yeah, right, sorry. I should get out of your way."

I hear him, feel his presence behind me as I walk quickly to my room. Then I mentally curse myself for staying in the doorway to watch him continue down the hall to his own room. Shaking my head, I finally sprawl out on my bed. _Our_ bed, mine and Uriah's. Uriah. My boyfriend. Right.

I find the synopsis and analysis I printed off in the college's computer lab, highlighter poised over the page, spiral-bound notebook at my side ready to take notes for my paper. And I try really, really hard to concentrate.

I lay there trying to read it, but it's even harder to concentrate than usual. What the hell is wrong with me? One glimpse of Four's naked chest and I am stand there like some stupid infatuated fourteen-year-old.

I'm still stuck on this thought when I hear Four leave for his class. I thought maybe when I knew he was gone, I could forget about the situation and all the awkwardness that came with it, but can't focus for anything. I finally make it through the summary and analysis for the next chapter, but it takes forever.

By 4:30, I have given up on studying. I am just too distracted, which makes me so frustrated that I throw the book across the room. It lands on the floor right by the wall, open and face down with a few of the pages obviously bent. I pick it up and put it neatly on my desk. Looking around the room, I tidy the desk Uriah and I share, and the lotions and nail polishes and sports magazines on top of the dresser, and I just keep going. Until I come across a big plastic shopping bag. The one Four brought me, full of paints and brushes and canvases, and a basic tabletop easel.

It has been years since I last painted. When Four gave me this stuff all I could think was that he doesn't know me anymore, and that I had no intention of ever using this stuff. But I pull it out now and inspect it anyway. The brushes and paints are a better quality than I had first realized, and I close my eyes at the feel of the canvas under my fingers. My mom always loved to watch me paint, decorated many of the rooms in our house with my work. And I remember her pointing out once that when I was stressed or overwhelmed, painting always seemed to help me.

Why did I give up painting, again? I can't remember anymore. All I remember is that it was something Beatrice did and that Tris doesn't. But maybe it doesn't have to be that way.

* * *

 **MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2016 | 5:05 PM | FOUR**

The rain is falling harder than usual, contrary to the afternoon's typical drizzle, and has begun to soak through my jacket by the time I make it to my car, so I toss it on the passenger seat and ignore the goosebumps on my arms while the engine warms. The kids in my boxing class all did well today, but I know I didn't give them as much instruction as I should have. I was too distracted.

I was concerned about Fernando before the first time I even spoke to him. But now my suspicions have been confirmed by the yellowing bruise to his jaw and the finger-shaped marks I spied when his long sleeve slid up his arm to expose his wrist. He hurried to tug it back in place, but not quickly enough.

Suspicions are one thing. Near certainty is another. To know that this kid is being mistreated by someone makes my stomach turn. My own father was much better at hiding the evidence, but I see so much of my younger self in the kid. He is skittish and closed off, lonely and insecure, like he just wants to disappear into the crowd where no one will notice him. Invisibility is the best line of defense: if no one notices you, no one will hurt you.

I know what it's like.

I think of him walking out here in the cold rain, probably still without a coat, and it reminds me of Tris's advice. Take it slow… try to earn his trust. It's with that thought that I back out of the parking space, scanning the street for a gangly, hunched 13-year-old in a hoodie.

I have hardly driven a block when I find him walking down a side street, so I turn and drive toward him. His hoodie is more dark, wet splotches than its usual blue, he has hardly started walking and is already nearly drenched. Checking my mirror and seeing that there is no traffic coming up behind me, I slow to a crawl beside him and roll down the window.

"Fernando," I call out. He glances over his shoulder and his step falters. His dark fringe is plastered to his forehead despite his attempts to shield his face with the hood. "Let me give you a ride."

He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says before he turns to continue down the sidewalk.

"You'll get sick walking around in this weather, you don't even have a coat," I argue, letting my foot off the brake just enough to match his pace. "Do you want to be stuck at home with pneumonia?"

The suggestion that he could end up 'stuck at home' gets him. I bring the car to a stop again and he comes up to the window and looks me over, scrutinizing me. "What do you get out of it?" he asks, obviously wary. The question takes me aback.

"Why would I need anything out of it?" I ask.

Fernando shrugs, but he is still analyzing me with his stare.

"Just get in," I huff, pressing the button to unlock the doors. Fernando scowls but reaches for the door handle and climbs in.

I reach for a jacket from the backseat. Tris gave it to me about a week ago. It was Uriah's but he never wears it and she had hoped I could get Fernando to accept it. I smile to myself at her thoughtfulness. "Take off that sweatshirt and put this on," I demand.

"I told you last time, I don't want your coat," Fernando growls. "I'm not a fucking charity case, Four."

I roll my eyes. "Suit yourself. But I hope you don't mind me running a quick errand while you tell me where I'm supposed to be going."

He shrugs. I know the last place he wants to be is at home, he'd probably let me drive him all around town as long as I liked just for the delay. I pick the Goodwill donation strategically, do a U-turn at the next intersection, and head in that direction. I'm banking on the idea that Fernando will take the damn jacket before he lets me just toss it into the donation bin.

On the way there, I attempt small talk (which I hate) and Fernando only responds with grunts one-word answers. I learn that he's in the eighth grade and lives about ten blocks from me, but nothing about his interests. But I do hear him curse when he looks into his backpack and finds a sketchpad has gotten a bit damp. I remember Tris's advice to take it slow and I don't push him by commenting.

We pull up to the donation bin and I grab the jacket. "Give me a hand, will you?" I actually do need to donate a few things, one a box of old books and movies, the other full of Uriah's stuff. Tris had cleared it out after she and Uriah brought a carload of their stuff back from Seattle a couple weeks ago. Apparently he just threw everything he owned into boxes, unlike Tris, who only packed the things she wanted to keep. I wonder if she left behind everything I ever gave her. Or maybe she threw it all out right after I left.

Ten minutes later, I find myself sitting at a table in a local burger chain, Fernando slumped in the chair across from me wearing Uriah's old jacket. Just as I had hoped, he must have decided at the last moment to save it for himself rather than donate it. It is too big, but better than no jacket at all.

I tuck into my food as soon as it arrives, and Fernando does too. He let me buy him a meal, apparently warming at least a little to the idea of letting me help him. I'll take that as a good sign.

I continue the same sort of small talk I was attempting in the car, hoping I can get him to tell me a little about his life but being careful not to push him, remembering when I was in his shoes. If I pry too much, he probably won't even show up to class next week. I manage to learn that he lives with his mom and step-dad. He also has a 16-year-old sister who recently moved in with her boyfriend.

"They don't want me there," he says, "and Maria doesn't even check on me."

I stir my milkshake with my straw. "My mom left when I was twelve," I confide, "and she never checked on me, either."

"This is different," he says, and I look up. Maybe this is my chance to get him to open up.

"How so?"

"It just is." His whole body has tensed, so different from his previous slouch. I'm getting too close to home. "Never mind, Four. You wouldn't understand."

"I'd probably understand more than you think," I say in a low voice. "I know what it's like to feel unwanted in your own home."

"You don't know shit, Four," Fernando snorts, glowering angrily down at his food.

He has no idea just how much I would understand, what I know. But without telling him why, I know he won't believe me. And I just can't summon the words.

* * *

 **MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2016 | 6:20 PM | FOUR**

I feel heavy as I walk up the stairs to the apartment. I pointed out the building to Fernando as we passed it on the way to his house, trying to be as nonchalant as possible when describing which apartment was mine. I just can't tell him about my past ― and even if I could, I don't think he's the first person who deserves to hear it. But at least this way, maybe he can see my place as somewhere safe he could go if things get too bad.

At night, Tris usually prefers the soft glow of table lamps, so I am surprised to find that a couple of bright desk lamps are on in the living room. A surge of something ― surprise? Happiness? Maybe even pride? ― courses through me when I see that the bright lights are strategically pointed at a canvas smeared with color.

Seeing Tris there with a palette and paintbrush, using the little tabletop easel I gave her, the bottles of paints I purchased strewn over the coffee table, brings a smile to my lips. I walk slowly into the living room, stopping about a yard behind her.

"I was starting to think you'd never use those," I say. Tris jumps, so engrossed in her craft that she must not have heard me come in. I sit on the arm of the couch and watch as she mixes paints to make a patch of blue on the easel look a bit more grayish and she begins to dab the brush against the canvas again. "What are you painting?"

"A cliff… or, well, a waterfall," she tells me. "The one I told you about back home. I wasn't sure what I wanted to paint, I just… I was trying to read and I couldn't concentrate. Mom used to remind me that painting helped."

I nod my understanding then just watch her paint. Sometimes she used to bring her stuff to the park and paint the things we saw in the clouds, or a flower in the grass, or a child on the swings ― whatever caught her eye. Painting always relaxed her, but watching her paint was what relaxed me. It seems it still does.

"I've missed this." She doesn't pause in her work as I begin to make out the figure of a person diving off the cliff. "I didn't even realize it. Maybe I'll do what you suggested...sign up for some art classes next term."

My ears perk at that. "You're thinking of going back to school?" I ask. "Just for art classes or…"

For the first time since I startled her, a good twenty minutes ago, Tris glances at me, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"Not just art classes." Her shoulders rise with the deep breath that follows. "I've been in school since September." My jaw drops. All that time I kept telling her to… and she never told me. Why would she? But at the time, why _wouldn't_ she tell me, at least it would have gotten me off her back. "It's just part time ― nine credits, for now. I don't want to take out loans."

Realization dawns on me. "That's why you were torturing yourself with Steinbeck."

Tris chuckles. "Yeah. I think I'll probably fail the paper on that one. I seriously just cannot deal with Steinbeck."

I smile. "Sorry to say, I can't help you this time." Three years ago I helped her study for her test on _Of Mice and Men_. "Never read _The Grapes of Wrath._ "

"Lucky you."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I ask.

"I didn't tell anyone before," she says. "Except Uriah, of course."

Yeah, that didn't answer my question… at all. "But why? Going to school is a good thing, I don't understand why you would hide that, Tris."

She bites her lip and brushes away a stray strand of hair, leaving a small smear of paint behind ― grayish-blue, like her eyes, but darker.

"I was tired of people's... expectations," she says slowly. "If I wanted to live my life by what other people tell me, I'd have stayed in Chicago with my father." She spits out the last word so forcefully, it reminds me of the way I feel about Marcus. Tris and her dad have never gotten on too well but even so, it leaves me wondering just exactly what the hell happened after I left.

I open my mouth to ask, even though I'm not sure it's such a good idea to push her for anything more right now, but I am interrupted by the front door opening and Uriah's heavy footsteps.

"Hey, Four," he says, seeing me first as he dumps his backpack on the kitchen table. "Hey Schmoopy," he grins. "Oh. Wow, that's the cliff ― how did you ―" He comes up behind her and studies the painting with wide eyes. "When did you learn to paint?"

I turn to stare at him with my mouth literally hanging open like an idiot. "So much for no secrets," I mutter under my breath.

Tris glares at me as she responds. "A long time ago," she says gently. "I didn't feel like it any more after…"

"Wow. I can't believe you never told me! So, you coming out with us tonight?"

Tris bites her lip. "Can you give me half an hour? I want to try again to get some things done first..."

I head to my bedroom, tuning out their conversation. I'm amazed at how unaffected Uriah seems at not knowing about what, not long before they met, had been her favorite hobby. Maybe this is just what she means ― Uriah doesn't expect anything of her. And so she trusts him.

She told me finally about school, so does that mean she trusts me? I have a feeling that while she's beginning to… we're not there yet.

But I desperately want us to be.


	39. Ch 39: Winter Storm

_It's been way too long since my last update. I'm so sorry about the unexpected hiatus! When there's too much real life crap filling my head, I run out of room for other stuff. I don't expect it to be such a long wait for the next one. So if you have put up with my inconsistent updating and are still reading this, thank you!_

* * *

 **Chapter 39  
** _ **Winter Storm**_

 **FRIDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2016 | 8:30 AM | TRIS**

I am awakened by a blast of cold air on my bare skin. This apartment is always so damn cold, with its inadequate insulation in the walls and the cheap, ill-fitting windows leaking air from the outside. I immediately register a slight feeling of vertigo and pounding head: sure signs that I drank too much last night when Uriah, Lynn, Marlene and I celebrated having finished our final exams. Eyes still closed, I blindly reach to fumble with the blanket. A hand stills my movement and the blanket falls back over me.

"Sorry," Uriah says, and despite his efforts to speak softly, his deep voice increases the in my head. "Zeke is picking me up in half an hour."

I groan and open one eye. "Close the blinds," I whine. .

The blinds fall with a zip of the cord. I hear the rustling of fabric as Uriah pulls on some clothes, then the soft padding of bare feet moving away from me until there is silence in the room. I press my face into the pillow and cover my exposed left eye with my hand to block the light. Still cold, I shiver and burrow further into the blanket. Just as I am finally satisfied the footsteps return, then the bed dips with Uriah's weight.

I should get up and see him before he leaves, I know I should, but I don't really feel like it. I drank a lot last night, but not enough to forget _why_ I drank myself stupid.

"Tris," Uriah says. He gently shakes my shoulder. A grunt is my only response. "Tris, come on, sit up for a minute. I have pain killers and water."

That does sound like a good enough reason to get up. Not to mention, it's a sweet gesture that leaves me feeling a bit guilty for being upset with him in the first place. Especially since he didn't really do anything wrong. It was my own choice to take a waitressing job where I had to work nights; of course he has found other friends to hang out with. I just wish that all his inside jokes with Marlene didn't make me feel so left out. And it doesn't make sense for me to be angry now when I clearly didn't care by the end of the night; the fact that we both fell asleep completely naked is enough evidence of that.

Now that I am upright, my head is spinning, but I can endure it for these few minutes until he leaves. He hands me a few ibuprofen tablets and I throw them back with several gulps of water. I pull the blanket up around me as I begin to shiver and when I look up again, Uriah his holding a t-shirt out to me. "Thanks," I say, quickly pulling it over my head.

Uriah nods. "You sure you can't play hooky from work, come with us instead?"

"I wish," I sigh. "Maybe if it was only one night, but if I call off three days in a row, they might fire me. Besides… I think this might be better just family, don't you?"

Uriah shakes his head. "You know we consider you family, Tris. All of us do."

"Even so. I never celebrated a birthday with your dad when he was alive, doesn't seem right that I should be there now." Zeke and Uriah are going up to Seattle for a long weekend to spend some time with Hana, in honor of Jacob's birthday. I could have asked for the time off, but I opted for a lighter schedule during finals week instead. We have savings, but that's for getting our own apartment later. "It's a moot point anyway. You know I have to work."

"If you're sure." I offer a weak smile in response as Uriah checks his watch. "Zeke will be here soon. Oh! I left my car keys on the desk. It's pretty cold out there and I heard it might snow. Thought maybe you'd rather have a car than just your bike this weekend."

"Thanks."

"Of course," he smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Now go back to sleep. You were pretty wasted last night, can't be feeling too well now. Zeke will be here soon, so I gotta go. I'll see you Monday."

I accept a chaste kiss, then he grabs his bag and heads for the door.

"Be safe," I call after him as he walks to the bedroom door. "I love you."

"Love you too, Schmoopy," he calls over his shoulder.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2016 | 11 AM | TRIS**

I watch the falling snow out the window and rub my hands up and down my arms to warm myself before deleting my father's voicemail message and shoving my phone back into my pocket. I push away his demands for my return to Chicago and focus instead on the way the street has turned a light gray with the snow beginning to stick to the black asphalt. White blankets the rooftops and contrasts against the deep green of the evergreen trees. It's beautiful, one of the things I miss from winter at home.

I turn when I hear the front door open. Four holds a paper grocery bag in each arm as he stomps at the doormat, shaking off the snow still caked onto his boots. He finally enters the apartment, lets the door swing shut and toes off his shoes before heading to the kitchen and setting the bags on the counter.

Four makes eye contact with me as he begins to empty the grocery bags. "I was beginning to think you would never get out of bed." He smiles, holding up a large container of hot chocolate mix in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other.. "I got your hot chocolate and whipped cream, I know you'll want those in this weather. I couldn't wait any longer to head out to the store, so I hope I got everything you'll want to eat in the next few days."

I brush past him on my way into the kitchen, grab the tea kettle and fill it with water. "Nice of you," I say, putting the kettle on the stove and lighting the gas burner. "But you didn't need to wait around on my account. Uriah left me his car. I can go out if I need anything. I have to go sell my books back, anyway."

I hoist myself up to sit on the counter, legs hanging off the edge. Four gazes distantly at the window, watching the heavy snowfall. He shakes his head and returns to his task, sparing me a glance.

"Not a good idea, Tris," he warns. "Not in this weather."

I roll my eyes. "I'll be fine, Four. I'm not letting a little snow stop me. I'm from Chicago, after all."

"So am I."

"I know," I snort. "Only two years away and you've already forgotten how to drive in the snow, apparently."

Four pauses and sets a can of beans on the counter. He side steps so that he is standing directly in front of me, between my legs, caging me in with his hands at the edge of the counter on either side of me and fixing me with a hard stare.

"I haven't forgotten," he says quietly. "But this is my third winter here. Snow in Portland is nothing like snow in Chicago. Just trust me. It's not a good idea, Beatrice."

I narrow my eyes. I don't like being talked down to. I don't like being called _Beatrice._ And I don't like being told what to do (or not do), and certainly not by _him_. It's all a bit too reminiscent of my father and brother, especially with him calling me by that name. He has no right, not after he abandoned me.

He has me cornered and his face is closer to mine than is socially acceptable, but I don't lean away from him. I refuse to be the one to back down.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, _Tobias_ ," I hiss.

Instead of the anger I anticipated seeing when his name leaves my lips, what I see in his eyes is completely unexpected.

He's giving me _that look._ I see all the things I used to see when he looked at me, back in another life ― emotions that I have often thought I must have only been imagining. I see longing. I see desire. My breath catches and my pulse quickens. And suddenly, I just need to get out of here. I don't care that Four thinks going out in the snow is a bad idea, I don't even care about being the first to back down. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care.

I shove Four's arm aside and slide down the counter so I can hop down. He stops me with a hand around my upper arm. "Tris, I'm serious." I shake him off and walk toward the living room where I left Uriah's keys. Four calls after me. "It gets really icy. They don't keep the roads clear. And you might know how to drive in snow but trust me, no one else around here does." I grab the keys off the coffee table, completely ignoring Four, and grab my backpack full of textbooks.

"Good thing I'm getting it over with before the roads get any worse then."

"Well, don't expect me to come to your rescue," he grumbles.

"Won't need a rescue. I'm not a damsel in distress, Four," I snap.

Four runs a hand down his face. "At least take my truck," he sighs. "I don't think an old Camaro―"

"I'll be fine," I interrupt.

"Do you have to be so stubborn?"

I glance back, hand on the door handle. "Do you have to always tell other people what to do?" I stomp out the door without waiting for a response.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2016 | 1:30 PM | TRIS**

"Damn it." I scroll through my contacts with red, frozen fingers until I reach Shauna's name. Using my shoulder to hold the phone to my ear, I again crouch and try to dig the snow away from the rear tires. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," I mutter.

When I don't get an answer, I sigh and shake the melted snow off my hands. I have tried everything I can think of to free Uriah's car from the snow drift I skidded into, and nothing has worked. My friends have either not picked up or can't get to me. My car insurance offers roadside assistance, but even if I were in my own vehicle, they have too many other people to help and I would be waiting hours. I could walk home as it's only about two miles, but I can't just leave Uriah's car stranded at the side of the road without doing everything possible to get it out.

I groan out loud when I finally resign myself to the fact that there is only one option left. This will be shaming.

He picks up on the second ring. I force my voice to sound chipper even though I feel anything but. "Hi," I drawl. "So, turns out I'm a damsel in distress after all. I'm stuck."

* * *

It takes Four an hour to reach me and by then, for all our efforts, there is no digging the Camaro out of the snow drift. To Four's credit, he saves any hint of an I-told-you-so until we are in his truck, leaving Uriah's car behind and wading through the slow-moving traffic.

I hold my freezing hands directly in front of the vents to warm them, and my snow-dampened hair is plastered lifelessly to my forehead and cheeks. I'm sure I resemble a drowned rat.

Neither of us speaks, and I stubbornly ignore the way Four's lips twitch. But when I mutter a complaint about my soggy socks, Four bursts out laughing. I can ignore a hint of a smile, but I can't very well pretend that he isn't openly laughing at me.

"I told you so," he chuckles. I scowl, but his face is not smug. If anything, he's looking at me fondly. Somehow I just can't be annoyed with his reaction and I find myself joining in with his laughter.

"I'm nothing if not stubborn," I admit, smiling.

"I'm glad some things don't change," he says. I raise my eyebrows but let the comment go when I see his pink cheeks. He clears his throat. "So how did you end up in that ditch, anyway?"

I sigh. "Pretty much got ran off the road. I never imagined just how bad people could be at driving in bad weather. And as much as I hate to admit it… an old muscle car might not be the best option in this kind of snow. I could see why you said it would be icy. Even compared to up on the mountain when Uri and I go snowboarding."

"Yeah, and I know you usually take Zeke's truck when you do that," he agrees. "This snow, it's good for sledding, though."

I sit up a little straighter. "Is it? I wouldn't mind putting that claim to the test. Only, I don't have a sled."

"I might be able to help with that," Four hedges.

"Might?"

"Might. There's a catch."

"Of course there is. Okay then, what's the catch?"

"That you have to bring me with you, of course."

I playfully roll my eyes, but in truth I don't mind one bit. What fun is playing in the snow all alone? "Fine, if I have to," I tease, not bothering to hide my smile.


	40. Ch 40: Body Heat

_A/N: Hey! Another update in just two weeks? Sure beats the months you waited for the last one. :P I cut this one off earlier than I expected I would, but I had a couple ideas for the next chapter and thought the next part fit better over there. Also, I meant to mention on the last chapter… if you live somewhere it snows frequently, you might be rolling your eyes at the mayhem this storm is causing. So I just want to put it out there that I grew up in Portland, and no matter how ridiculous it might seem, this is how Portland reacts to snow. Hills and rivers and bridges and a population of adults who have no idea how to drive on icy streets. I've had shifts canceled when working in restaurants, I've taken the bus downtown to relieve cabin fever only to find that the only thing open was a Plaid Pantry, I've spent 3 hours trying to drive 3 miles home all for four inches of snow, and I've tried to cook Christmas dinner with the power going in and out every 15 minutes._

 _Anyway! Here's the chapter. I rushed to get it ready to post today, because I can't mess with tradition ― I always post a chapter on my birthday. ;)_

* * *

 **Chapter 40  
** _ **Body Heat**_

 **SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2016 | 8:30 PM | FOUR**

Tris and I trudge back through the snow after sledding in the field outside the neighborhood elementary school. We spent hours sledding down the small hill, built a snowman, and won a pretty epic snowball fight against a group of ten-year-olds. Tris and I were at ease with one another in a way we haven't been in such a long time. It reminded me of the friendship we forged before I had gathered up the courage to kiss her for the first time. It was all so much fun that neither of us really wanted to call it a night and head home, but eventually we were both too damp and cold to carry on any longer.

"Four?" she says as we near the last turn before we will reach our apartment building. "Have you noticed anything odd?"

"Odd?" I echo, glancing around me. Everything appears as it should, except for the streets free of traffic. It is peaceful and quiet, the smell of chimney smoke in the air. The snow stopped an hour or two ago, and the moonlight peeking through breaks in the cloud cover and reflecting off the white of the snow provides our only source of light.

Ah. _Our only source of light._

I curse under my breath. "Power's out," I say. "Probably a tree, or even just branches, falling on the lines."

"Must have gone out soon after we left the house," Tris suggests. "Street lights never came on, or we would have noticed them going out."

I pull out my phone to check for a time estimate on the electric company's website only to find that there are outages all over the city. We could be without power for a while yet.

"Now I almost wish they hadn't canceled my shift," Tris says. She had been shocked when she got the call from the pub telling her that they were closing early due to the weather. I just told her that was typical ― I discovered my first winter here that the whole city shuts down when it snows.

I shrug. "They're probably without power by now, too. Being there wouldn't do you any good."

We shake the snow off our boots but still track plenty into the apartment. With the flashlight on my cell phone, I can see that it doesn't melt right away; with the poor insulation and ill-fitting windows in this place, it is already pretty chilly inside.

"Right… no heat," Tris says, sounding a bit put out. "Better get out of these wet clothes, it will be hard enough to warm up as it is."

"At least we have the gas stove," I say. "I'll heat up some water for cocoa."

"Good thing you bought more," Tris says before disappearing down the dark hall to her room.

Shivering, I fumble around the kitchen until I find a book of matches, then light the burner. After setting a kettle of water to boil I get changed in my bedroom and when I come back out, Tris is stirring two mugs of hot chocolate. I grab the plate of peanut butter sandwiches she has set out on the counter and bring it to the couch while Tris carries in the hot cocoa, an ice cube swimming in hers while mine is steaming hot..

Tris grabs the blanket from the arm of the couch and wraps it around herself, sitting a few feet away from me. "Hey," I complain, "don't I get to share that blanket?"

She swallows a mouthful of hot cocoa. "Nope," she smirks. "Get your own."

"I never knew you to be so selfish, Prior," I grumble, getting up to get the quilt off my bed. Her answering smile tells me that she knows my dig wasn't serious. When I come back I sit a little closer to her than before. She doesn't complain or move away from me.

After we have finished our sandwiches, Tris and I play a card game by candlelight. On our second game of Spite and Malice ― a game neither of us have played since I left Chicago ― I notice how much colder it has become. While I manage to mostly hide my reaction to the chill I am feeling, I see that even wearing multiple layers and bundled in her fleece blanket, it is impossible to miss Tris's shivering. She can barely keep hold of the cards in her hand.

"Tris," I say, "you're freezing."

"I'm fine," she says. In contradiction to her statement, her teeth begin to chatter.

"You're not," I argue. I gather the cards up and she protests as I take the ones she is holding. "It's only going to get worse, Tris. Low of twenty tonight."

"Twenty degrees isn't that cold."

"In this shitty apartment, yeah, it is. Half the city is in a blackout, it could be hours yet before the power comes back."

"So?" she scoffs. "There isn't much we can do about it."

"We can do our best to stay warm in the meantime." She grabs her mug and gulps some more of her still-warm chocolate ― her fourth cup tonight. "And hot drinks aren't doing enough," I add.

"So what do you expect I should do about it?" she snaps in frustration. "If you hadn't noticed, we're stuck here. We don't have a fireplace, and it's not like we've got a generator to get the heat going."

"No," I agree. "But that isn't the only source of heat we have."

Her eyes widen. "You don't mean…"

"Do you see another option? Because I certainly don't. Unless you want your stubbornness to land you sick in bed with pneumonia."

Tris bites her lip, but I can see that she's conceding.

* * *

A half hour later I find myself still on the couch, but warm and cozy under the blankets with Tris's body contoured against mine. Neither of us are cold now with our combined body heat trapped under the thick double layer of blankets. I force myself to ignore the romantic ambience the candlelight provides. It was easier while we were making small talk, but the silence between us over the past few minutes has made it harder and harder to focus on anything other than how good, how _right_ it feels to hold Tris in my arms again.

It is a relief to hear Tris's voice cut through the quiet. "Thank you."

I lift my head to glance down at her. "For what?" I ask, confused.

"For coming out in the snow to get me today," she explains. Then, quieter, "For not making too big a deal out of it. Only one 'told-you-so', I really can't complain." I can hear the hint of a smile in her voice.

"Well, after that argument, I couldn't let you get away completely scott free."

"Suppose not." This time I am certain she's smiling.

Tris turns in my arms, forcing me to (reluctantly) loosen my hold on her, and settles with her front against mine and her arms bent over my chest, chin resting on her hands while my arms loosely encircle her waist. "Still," she says, more serious now. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you had refused to help me after the way I acted. You could have just left me to walk home."

"I could have," I admit. "But I never would."

Tris lifts her head and reaches a hand out. When her hand touches my cheek, my heart beats faster and my stomach swoops as a wave of ecstacy washes over me so strong that I have to close my eyes.

It is while my eyes are still closed that I feel something I never expected: Tris's soft lips brushing against mine. My skin tingles where we touch and I react without thinking, leaning into the kiss, mouth moving with hers, my arms around her waist drawing her closer to me.

She pulls away too soon and reality crashes over me, forcing me to open my eyes and loosen my grip on her waist. Even in the low candle light I see the red flushing her cheeks. She bites her lip ― which is totally counterproductive in tamping down my desire to kiss her again ― and averts her eyes.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I ― I'm sorry. I shouldn't have―"

"It's, it's fine," I stutter, cutting off her awkward apologies.

"I should just…" She tries to get up, and the cold air rushes to fill the space between our bodies, prompting me to immediately pull her back against me.

"It's too cold, Tris. I told you, it's fine. We'll just forget it. Never happened." I try to give my most convincing smile. Which is difficult because I'm lying through my teeth when I say I'll forget about it. I haven't forgotten any of our past kisses, when we were together, and I certainly will not forget this one. But the last thing I want to do is drive her away from me.

It doesn't work. Tris squirms away from me, and I know I can't force her to stay, it will only make things worse. She jumps up and begins to gather up the mugs and dishes from the coffee table and rushes out of the room. I pull myself up to a sitting position, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, listening to Tris putter around the kitchen, probably washing dishes and filling the tea kettle.

Every day, to some extent, I have had to restrain myself from kissing Tris. I try to convince myself that she's just an old friend, or just my roommate, but I can't fool myself. I go out to parties with Zeke, and I flirt with other girls, but that's as far as it gets any more. She's the only one I want.

At first it was the return of old feelings. I never wanted to leave her, and I never really stopped missing her. All the intensity I had felt for her in high school rushed back as soon as I saw her again. And that intensity hasn't faded in the months since she arrived here in Portland, but it's not just old feelings any more. The past two years have changed her. My Beatrice is still in there, but she is somehow _more_ now. As I have gotten to know her as she is now, as 'Tris', it's like falling in love all over again.

Until tonight, I thought those feelings were one-sided. Now I don't know what to think. She has a boyfriend and while, to my immense relief, they aren't the overly-affectionate, nowhere-is-sacred sort of couple, they rarely fight and are obviously very close. But _she_ kissed _me._ She has to still feel _something_ for me.

The tea kettle whistles, breaking me out of my thoughts. Even if she does feel that way, she's obviously not ready, or she wouldn't have run away just now. There's no point thinking about it; it will only make it more awkward if I can get her to be in the same room with me anytime soon.

I try to think of anything else, anything that is not about Tris, so I think about my plans for next week. We just finished finals and have the next month off for the winter holidays, so while I will still work my usual night shifts, there won't be any classes to go to. Even the community center classes go on a winter break. I wonder how I will keep tabs on Fernando while I am not seeing him in class this month.

A gust of cold air whistles through the ill-fitting windows. It's really cold out there; I'm suddenly so relieved that Fernando let me give him Uriah's old coat. I hope he has somewhere to stay warm and safe. I strongly suspect that he is mistreated at home and desperately hope it's not as bad as the way I grew up. I wish he would trust me, but I understand, probably better than anyone, why he doesn't. I've been out of that hell for almost two-and-a-half years, and I still can't talk about it ― even to someone who would understand. Haven't even gathered enough courage to give Tris a real explanation.

How would I have felt if she left me with no explanation? It kills me when I imagine how much that would have hurt ― how much I must have hurt her. She has every right to hate me. And even so, she still feels something for me.

The hell Marcus put me through been over for two and a half years, and I still won't talk about it.

Is it really even over? I let him steal away my happiness. I am still allowing him to stand in the way, letting him keep me weak and silenced. Not even strong enough to really help Fernando. Still not brave enough to make things right with Tris. I don't know what I'll do if he ever finds me at this rate. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to face him.

But maybe, I can take a step. Maybe I can face Tris. Maybe.

* * *

Tris holds out longer than I thought she would. I don't comment when I see her shivering, or even when I can hear her teeth chattering from across the room. She tries everything ― even more layers of clothing, more layers of blankets. She paces the apartment, trying to rely on movement to keep her warm, but it has already been a long day and she eventually tires out. She disregards her own preference for her cocoa to be not-too-hot, and drinks it while it's still steaming.

But after two hours, she has had enough. She peels off the extra clothing, knowing blankets and shared body heat will do her more good, and sheepishly sits down beside me on the couch, her eyes pleading. I'm tempted to play dumb, make her come out and ask to snuggle up to me. But I'm freezing my ass off too, so I'm not about to take the chance that my teasing might strengthen her resolve. I know just how stubborn she can be. I raise the blanket, inviting her in.

I try to steady my breathing as she nestles under my arm and arranges the blankets over us again. For most of the past two hours, my mind has been racing, and I know what I need to do. But knowing what to do and actually doing it are two different things.

"I'm sorry for earlier," she says again, so softly.

"Thought we agreed to forget it." _Yeah, right. Like I could forget that._

Tris chuckles nervously. "If you say so."

"How's Uriah?" I ask in an attempt to change the subject. I know she called him while she was pacing the apartment earlier, but I didn't overhear much.

"Fine," she says absently. "Might be stuck in Seattle an extra day or two."

"Mmm," I hum, unsurprised; this winter storm system has hit the whole of the Pacific Northwest. I'm more interested that she seems unbothered by his absence. That thought spurs me on. I take a deep breath. "I've been thinking…"

"Oh no," Tris teases with a smile in her voice, "now we're in trouble."

"Shut up." I can't help smiling back. Glancing down at her, I see her facing away from me, head on my shoulder. I'm not sure I could do this if I were looking at her face to face. "Actually, I was thinking that you're right."

"What about? I mean, of course I am, but what am I right about this time?"

"I want to ― well, not want to, but _need_ to ― tell you about… about why I left Chicago." Tris is stunned into silence, perfectly still, seems to even be holding her breath. I close my eyes and dig deep for a little more courage.

"I lied to you," I begin, "about a lot of things. That was my whole life in Chicago ― lies and secrets. I told you I didn't know why my mother left, but I did. It was the same reason I left. It was because of Marcus."

I thought it would be hard to tell her, so hard that I wouldn't be able to find the words. I wasn't sure I would make it through it even once I started. I thought I might stop in the middle and tell her to forget it and refuse to speak of any of this again.

Maybe it's just because it's Tris. Maybe it's because I have wanted to be honest so many times, and for so long. But once I start, the words just spill out. And as they do, I feel like I am finally beginning to fight back against the devil that haunts my worst nightmares.

She lets me talk without asking questions. She tries to hide it, but I know she cries for me. But when she looks up into my face, I don't see the pity I have always imagined would be there, and I know that this was the right choice. This was a step in the right direction ― a step toward healing, and a step toward making things right with Tris. Even if it might be too little, too late.


	41. Ch 41: Blue Christmas

_Feels a bit odd to post a Christmas chapter in August but... that is where we are. :) Thanks so much to everyone who has favorited, followed, and especially those who have taken a moment to review! I love feedback. I wish I could update at least weekly but every other week seems to be the best I can do at the moment. Thanks for your patience!_

* * *

 **Chapter 41  
** _ **Blue Christmas**_

 **SUNDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2016 | 2:45 AM | TRIS**

With the power out, the apartment is eerily quiet. It's the absence of all those sounds that you don't even notice, like the low hum of the refrigerator, things that just become white noise that you tune out. The absolute silence seems to amplify the sound of my own thoughts in my head and make them impossible to escape.

Everything Four told me runs circles around my head. I don't know what to feel, so I feel everything.

Anger. Anger at Marcus, for his horrifying mistreatment of his son and wife. No one should have to feel afraid in their own home, of a person who is meant to love them. No one has a right to lay a hand on a child in the way Marcus did, let alone a belt. Just the thought of it makes me so sick, I'm surprised I was able to hold down all that hot chocolate.

Hurt. Because it does, it hurts ― knowing that he was suffering through that the whole time we were together, but he never trusted me enough to tell me.

Guilt and shame. That's what immediately follows the hurt, because I feel so damn _selfish_ for thinking of myself, having the nerve to feel betrayed, while processing what he's been through.

Relief comes last. It's another selfish emotion, pile on a bit more guilt. Because all the things I am relieved about are about _me,_ not about him. I'm relieved that I continued to protect him from Marcus, even after he had gone, always lying about whether I had heard from Tobias. And especially, relief for now knowing that it really didn't have anything to do with me, his reasons for leaving.

Four shifts in his sleep; his arms around me are a familiar comfort. I used to spend the night with him sometimes while my parents thought I was having a sleepover with my friends. Susan covered for me more than once. I would feel a little bad about that, looking back, had she not sold me out to Marcus in the end. Maybe I haven't been much of a friend these past few years, but knowing what I do of Marcus now, I'm glad I ditched her.

I wonder what Four expects me to feel about his story. I know he expected ― and dreaded ― for me to look at him with pity; he commented that I wasn't 'giving him that look, like he was a kicked puppy.' I know Four well enough to know, he's no kicked puppy. Getting out from under his father's thumb has allowed him to grow from the boy I knew in Chicago. When I saw him outside the apartment building that day in August, one of the first things I noticed was the way he stood with a confidence I had never seen in him before.

But beyond that… does he expect this to fix everything? It doesn't. Until he left, I thought we were so close. I believed he trusted me. And maybe I should just appreciate that he was finally honest with me. Instead, it's hard to see that over this newfound clarity, a realization of just how much he was always hiding behind a careful mask. What I really don't understand is that the anger I have held against him for years is fading to acceptance and resignation.

Four's breath is warm on my ear, slow and steady in sleep. He murmurs something unintelligible and pulls me closer. I let him, despite all my internal conflict, because he's the only thing keeping me from freezing half to death in here. Not because I like to be close to him. Nope, that is definitely not the reason.

My thoughts have barely wandered to Uriah all night, but they do now. Uriah is wonderfully understanding of nearly any situation, but if he were to see the scene I have found myself in the middle of, I'm not sure even he would let it roll off his back. The thought brings a new stab of guilt. I was mad at him for having too many inside jokes with Marlene, and here I am snuggling with my ex-boyfriend. That stab of guilt builds, and it just might swallow me whole, so I carefully wriggle out of Four's arms and remove the top blanket. Wrapping it around myself I pace the living room.

Things have been a bit off with Uriah for a while now. It's nothing I can really put my finger on, but all the same, it's there. Yes, he has new friends, and I don't know them as well as I might like to. But I'm not upset with him for that, not really. I guess I just feel a little left out. I don't like this distance that I feel between us. Uriah and I have always been so close, always known everything going on with one another, and I hate feeling like there are parts of his life that I'm not really a part of. After all, Tobias kept things from me and look what happened.

Maybe it was a mistake to take a job working nights. It was a logical choice: my tips more than double my income from what I would receive with just the hourly wage, making it possible for me to work fewer hours. If I took on a full-time day job, it would be difficult to continue attending classes. I have already signed up for nine credits again next term. Uriah is all I really have left, and clearly I need to find a way to spend more time with him. But I don't want to give up on my education that easily. I just need to find some other way for us to spend more time together.

I glance over at Four's face, so beautiful and so relaxed in sleep, and my stomach churns remembering that I kissed him just hours ago. I can't believe I did that. Uriah and I need time to reconnect, preferably without Four around. His presence surely has not helped my relationship with Uriah, and it is only driving the wedge deeper the more time I spend with him.

I bite my lip as I rack my brain for a solution. Things are so different here than when it was just me and Uriah, with no obligations and no plan, flying by the seat of our pants all summer long.

A smile curls the corners of my lips. I know what to do.

* * *

 **TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2016 | 1:45 PM | TRIS**

My head pounds and my whole body aches, and all I want to do is sleep. I know I need to drag myself out of bed and into the shower, my appointment begins in a little over an hour, but moving is the last thing I want to do. I lick my dry lips, popping one eye open to consider the mug of tea Four left on the bedside table a few minutes ago and trying to decide if I can muster up the energy to sit up and drink a little.

I earned myself another told-you-so when I started coughing Sunday evening. The power had still been out when Four woke at seven o'clock that morning, and I had been wandering the apartment, shivering all the while, for four hours by that point. Between my lack of sleep that night and the prolonged exposure to the cold, it seems my immune system was compromised… just like Four warned me it would be. The power finally clicked back on at ten o'clock that morning.

The door creaks open and if I had the energy, I would snap at Four for coming in without knocking; I know I'm being ungrateful, he has spent the past two days taking care of me, after all, but I am a bit angry with him for that kiss. I know it wasn't his fault, I know I was the one who kissed him and not the other way around, but a part of me blames him anyway.

All thoughts of lashing out at Four leave me when I hear the heavy footsteps against the hardwood floor. I immediately know this isn't Four ― Four's steps are eerily quiet for a man of his stature. The bed dips and the familiar touch of Uriah's hand brushes a loose strand of hair off my forehead. I roll onto my back and blink up at him.

"Hi," I say. My voice is quiet and hoarse.

"Hi," he smiles softly back. "You're burning up, Tris. I thought Four was taking care of you," Uriah says as he settles behind me on the bed, both of us automatically taking up our familiar, comforting spooning position.

"He has been. I'm glad you're home." Uriah was supposed to come back Sunday, but the bad weather kept him Seattle for an extra two days. During that time, I have tried to prepare myself to confess about the kiss. But basking in the love and concern I see in his eyes now, I don't want to ruin anything. I'll tell him when I'm feeling better.

I feel his lips press to the back of my neck. "Me too. Let me get you some Tylenol for that fever."

"I just had some a couple of hours ago," I protest. Uriah frowns; I know he is worried that I am still warm. "You could get me a couple ibuprofen. I remember my mom telling me you can alternate between them. Anyway, I see the doctor at three o'clock."

"Okay," he says. "I'll take you. But I need to have Four take me to get my car, will you be alright while we're gone?"

"Of course," I assure him, feeling relieved that Uriah is back and I now have a buffer between me and Four.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2016 | 10:30 AM | TRIS**

Only a week until Christmas, and I haven't gotten any shopping done. That bout of pneumonia last week really set me behind. We leave for Seattle on Saturday morning; I'm taking a whole week off of work and Uriah has too, though he doesn't yet know exactly why he needed the extra time off. That will be a Christmas surprise.

I skim my eyes over the list I have written, pausing again on the last line. _Four._ I have debated whether to get him a gift, what kind of gift it should be, agonized over this decision more than any other. It was easy to leave Dad off the list, though I did buy generic holiday-themed greeting cards to drop in the mail for him and Caleb. Caleb did make the list, though I already know that I won't put much effort (or cash) into his gift; I'll just slip a ten dollar gift card to Barnes & Noble in his envelope.

I sigh and slip the list into my back pocket, still not having made a decision about Four's gift. I haven't even been able to talk it through with Uriah. Without telling him about the kiss, there would be no point. I realize how silly I am being, considering I keep telling myself that I _will_ tell him about the kiss. It's just I keep finding reasons to put the conversation off for another day.

Coming out of my room,I see Four reading on the couch as I pass. I haven't sat with him to read since the snowstorm. One part of me misses the routine, but the part that wants to avoid this whole situation with my ex-boyfriend has won out.

I practically tiptoe, hoping he won't notice me, as I pass into the kitchen. Now that I feel 100% better, it is often hard to remember to take my antibiotics, but today I decided that I was determined to do so without Four nagging me about it.

"Tris?" I hear from behind me, startling me into spilling my water. I throw a glare over my shoulder at Four. Why do his steps have to be so damn quiet? He's always sneaking up on me. Sometimes I think we should make a rule that everyone must wear shoes in the house, just so that I can hear him coming.

I put on a fake smile. "Morning, Four."

"Do you have a minute?"

"Not really," I lie. "Uriah will be back any minute to pick me up. We're going Christmas shopping." The part about shopping is true, but Uriah won't be back for a good fifteen minutes. He borrowed Zeke's truck yesterday and decided to save some time by returning it while I was getting ready for our trip to the mall.

Four rubs the back of his neck. "Tris, we really need to talk about―"

I cut him off. "There's nothing to talk about. Nothing happened."

"Tris―"

"No, Four. You said so yourself. It didn't happen, and we aren't going to talk about it."

"I know what I said," he snaps. "But you'll hardly look at me now. I don't think―"

"I told you. We're not having this conversation. Not now, not ever. Look, I gotta go."

I quickly rush out the door. I'll wait for Uriah outside. I would rather endure the cold weather than this conversation.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2016 | 4:30 PM | TRIS**

After shopping for hours, Uriah and I sit down in the food court to refuel. We don't talk much as we eat, and I sigh, hating the awkward silence. It isn't right, it isn't _us._ I should never experience awkward silences with Uriah. He's my comrade, my partner in crime ― the peanut butter to my jelly, as he once said.

"You okay, Schmoopy?" Uriah asks, setting down his plastic fork.

"Fine," I say automatically. Uriah raises an eyebrow. I knew as soon as I heard my own voice that it was a little too high-pitched to be believable.

"You sure about that?"

I chew on my lip. "It's just…" I swallow. There are things I need to tell him and he has just given me the perfect opening. But looking at his eager, concerned eyes, a wave of fear at his potential reaction surges through me and I chicken out once again. "I have no idea what to get for Four for Christmas."

"Oh." Uriah laughs. "That's all? You should have said something sooner, I could have helped you look. Hmm…" He sticks the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth as he thinks. "How about…" He meets my eyes. "I have no idea."

I groan. "We could ask Zeke for ideas, or―" Suddenly he stops talking and his eyes light up. He jumps out of his chair and waves his arms over his head, and I look around to see why just as he calls out. "Marlene! Lynn! Over here!" Uriah looks down at me with a smile. "I bet Marlene will have an idea."

"Why would Marlene have an idea?" I ask, trying not to pout. I do like Marlene and Lynn, a lot actually, but I really wanted today to just be Uriah and me. But it's too late, she's on her way over with Lynn, apparently distracting Uriah too much to listen to my question. With a sigh of resignation, I stand to greet our friends.

* * *

 **SUNDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2016 | 8:15 PM | TRIS**

Hana's rented house in Seattle is small, but comfortable and cozy. Colored lights twinkle where they hang on the gutters and the small Christmas tree is positioned by a living room window at the front of the house, cluttered with two decades worth of her boys' homemade ornaments. The air inside smells like cinnamon and gingerbread. Uriah was disappointed to find that the snowman he and Zeke made two weeks ago has melted away.

We had a good Christmas. We exchanged gifts in the late morning and Hana had filled a stocking for each of us, even me and Four. I wish it had been Shauna to come with us instead, but Four is Zeke's best friend and has no family to spend the holiday with, while Shauna is obligated to be with her brother, sister and parents. I have been pretty successful at avoiding him, though. In the end, Uriah let me add my name to his own gift for Four. He got him a gift certificate to the sporting goods store where he works. I considered giving him one of my paintings, but it just felt too personal, given...well...everything.

After a fantastic dinner ― Hana outdid herself once again ― I volunteered to wash the dishes. The little house does not have a dishwasher, so the chore has to be done manually. I fill the sink with soapy water and just as I begin to scrub, I feel a hand on my shoulder and tense.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Uriah says. I relax my shoulders when I hear his voice.

"Just wasn't expecting you." The truth is, at first I thought it might be Four. "You should be spending some time with your mom and Zeke."

"I will after we finish these dishes." Uriah picks up a towel and dries the first plate, which I had just placed on the drying rack.

"You really don't need to."

"I know," he shrugs, and I smile. "Tris, are you sure you don't mind that… well… your gift…"

"What about it?" I frown. "It was a great gift. My favorite color and everything."

"But you went all out. I got you a hat and scarf and a pair of shoes―"

"Which I needed, you know my old ones are wearing out."

"―and you got me a three-night trip to Whistler."

"Yes." I take his face in my wet, soapy hands and gently kiss his lips. "And I'll get to enjoy it just as much as you will, won't I? I'm just glad you aren't mad at me for spending so much of the money we saved."

"Nah. Though, now you've gotten bubbles all over my face, definitely unforgivable. Unless…" He reaches into the sink, comes back with a handful of bubbles and smears them across my nose. "Now we're even!"

I giggle as I wipe them from my face and onto his cheek. My smile falls when I see Four in the doorway. I clear my throat and turn back to the sink.

"Uriah, Zeke wants to know what's taking you so long," I hear Four say. They have a short conversation that ends up with Four volunteering to help me with the dishes, leaving me more than a little uneasy. I can't wait to have a few days just me and Uriah. It's exactly what we need. Just some time on our own, having a little adventure. A little getaway will fix everything.

I silently wash dishes, and Four dries. But before long…

"Tris, we need to talk," Four says. Again.

"No, actually, we really don't," I say with a tone of finality. "Like you said… _nothing happened._ "

"If nothing happened," Four hisses quietly, "you wouldn't be avoiding me at every turn. You want to act like nothing happened, fine. I can live with that. But that is _not_ how you're acting."

I drop the dish rag into the soapy water with a 'plop' and turn to face Four head on. "I have a boyfriend, Four. A boyfriend who I love, and I betrayed him. And you expect me to be just fine after that?"

"No, but―"

"But nothing, Four! You know, even after you left, I felt like I was cheating on you if I even thought of another guy in that way. I've moved on, you've moved on―"

"I haven't, actually," he argues.

"Yes, you have," I snap. "Or did you forget that I had the pleasure of meeting Nita." Four pinches the bridge of his nose and almost growls. "So yes, we have both moved on. We had a moment of ― of, I don't know, nostalgia, maybe. But it's over and done with, it's not happening again, and I need some damn space. Can't you just let me be?!"

Four runs a hand down his face and tosses the damp dish towel on the counter. He takes a step back. "Fine, Tris. Fine. If space is what you want, fine. Take all the space you need."

For the first time in a long time, I can hear every fall of his feet as he stomps out of the kitchen. For someone who just got what she wanted, I realize, I feel an awful lot like I just lost.


	42. Ch 42: Whistler

_A/N: I know it's been forever, I'm sorry. Writer's block. So much writer's block. Apparently knowing what needs to happen in the chapter isn't enough to make me feel ready to actually write it._

 _Anyway… my only experience with international travel has been entering Mexico, not Canada, when I was a kid. Not only were things a little different back then (we're talking shortly before 9/11) but I really don't remember the process very well at all and I'm not the greatest at google searches, so I may get it all wrong. Just go with it._

 _I don't really know exactly how soon I'll have the next chapter up. It should be a lot quicker than this update was, but I'm not making any promises. (If I do, I'll probably get stuck again!) But, until whenever I have the next one ready, here's a nice long chapter for you! And as always, a big thanks to everyone who follows, favorites, and/or reviews this story!_

* * *

 **Chapter 42  
** _ **Whistler**_

 **TUESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2016 | 11:45 AM | TRIS**

Back when I was first booking this vacation a few weeks ago, I checked Google Maps for travel times. The app had predicted that the drive from Hana's house in Seattle to the Canadian border would take a little under two hours, but I didn't think to take into account the congestion caused by so many people leaving town following the Christmas holiday. A lot of people must have come down to Seattle from British Columbia, because we have been inching toward the border at an agonizingly slow rate for nearly an hour and it doesn't look like our turn is coming up anytime soon.

I glance at Uriah. His eyes are fixed on the car in front of us even though no one is moving and even once we do, we will only crawl forward a car length or two.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask cheerfully.

He breaks out of his trance and smiles. "It's nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing."

Uriah shakes his head. "I was just thinking about you and Four. You haven't said much about him lately."

My heart picks up speed in my chest. "There's not much to say." I'm not even sure if I am lying. Because it's true ― there is nothing going on between me and Four right now, not even friendship. But I still haven't made up my mind whether I should tell Uriah about that kiss.

"Well, something must have happened," he protests. "I mean, you guys seemed to be getting along, friendly enough, you know? Then ever since that last time Zeke and I went up to Seattle, something seems different." I just shrug, but my mind races trying to conjure up an explanation for him. "And Christmas night in the kitchen it just seemed, I don't know… tense. Then you hardly even looked at him yesterday. What did you two talk about?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I don't want to lie to Uriah… I should really tell him the truth. I'm just not sure I can bring myself to spit out the words. I'm so afraid of losing him. He's the only person I really have left.

No. If I tell him now it could ruin the whole trip. And Four and I agreed to forget the kiss ever happened. It was old feelings resurfacing, it was just the situation with the power out and the cuddling and the candle light and all of it feeling too much like I was sixteen again, before everything went to shit. That's all it was, and telling Uriah might ruin everything. If I do ever decide to tell him, it certainly should not be right now, when we haven't even reached the ski lodge and have a three day vacation ahead of us. This trip is supposed to fix whatever seems not quite right between us… not tear us apart.

So I settle for half-truths. "It was nothing. Things got a little tense during that weekend you were away but it's ― I don't ―" I pause, take a breath, I don't want to stammer my way through this. "It's not worth talking about. There's just a lot of history so things are bound to get a little tense sometimes."

Uriah is silent for a moment, eyes studying my face and his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self-control to hold eye contact, to keep from biting my cheek, to keep my face blank. The line of cars moves and Uriah turns his attention back to the road. When he has moved the short distance forward and he strikes a conversation about the ski resort we are heading to, I finally let my tense muscles relax, knowing I have succeeded and this week still has a shot turning us back into the couple we used to be.

* * *

 **TUESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2016 | 10:20 PM | TRIS**

We didn't arrive at the ski resort until the afternoon, but we hit the slopes as soon as we had checked into our hotel. Our first day of snowboarding was amazing. Away from our lives in Portland, and Four, and any other distractions. Just like it was all summer where it was just me and Uriah and a crazy, wonderful adventure. We joked and laughed as we rode the chair lifts, and boarded and raced and dared each other to do silly stunts, and it was just like it used to be. We continued snowboarding long after the sun went down.

After a late dinner, we climb onto the hotel room bed and Uriah selects _Deadpool_ from the hotel's pay-per-view. The movie is good; Uriah and I rarely go to the movie theater and are always behind on the latest films. It's clever and funny and we both enjoy it, but Uriah falls asleep shortly before the credits roll. With a sigh, I shut off the lights.

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2016 | 8:30 PM | TRIS**

We stay out snowboarding well past dark again. Like yesterday, we have fun joking and trying to outdo one another all day long, the easy camaraderie we have always shared returning as if we were back on our slow cross-country trek from Chicago to Portland. Uriah posts a few of today's random selfies on Instagram while we wait for our meals at a local diner.

He is so engrossed in his phone that he doesn't notice the server putting his plate in front of him. I am a little annoyed, but I want to keep things light, so I throw a french fry at him. It hits him in the nose and I giggle when he jumps.

"Sorry," Uriah says with a sheepish smile.

"It's okay," I say. "So long as you don't keep ignoring me all night."

"Yeah, I was a little distracted, wasn't I?" he says, stuffing his phone into his pocket. "So what do you want to do tonight?" he asks before taking a big bite of his cheeseburger.

I have been thinking about this all day, so I have an answer ready for him. I grin. "I think we should check out the club scene. It's been a while since you took me dancing."

Uriah raises an eyebrow. "Dancing, huh?"

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p'. "You brought your ID, right?" I add quietly

"Never leave home without it," Uriah winks.

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2016 | 9:55 PM | TRIS**

The night has not gone as planned. I prettied myself up in record time and we didn't have much trouble finding the club. The legal drinking age in British Columbia is 19, so I brought my real driver's license while Uriah left his authentic identification in the hotel room and brought his old fake ID, posing as Rocco Peutersmith for the night.

"Do you think that if I had brought my fake ID instead of the real one, they would have let us in?" I ask Uriah as we enter our hotel room. "I think the fact that our IDs were from different states might have tipped him off."

"Maybe," Uriah shrugs. "Might not have made a difference. He's not gonna look twice seeing that your ID says you just turned 19, but both our fakes say we're 24. I think we're lucky we've gotten away with it for so long. It doesn't matter too much to me since he didn't confiscate it."

"Yeah, I guess. I really thought that with the younger drinking age here we'd have no problem. You're only five months away from being legal."

"I didn't expect to have any trouble, either," Uriah admits. "Too late now."

I kick off my high heels and flop down on the bed, and Uriah sits on one of the wooden chairs at the small table. We give each other small smiles but apparently we both come up short at finding anything to talk about, because the room remains silent and soon we can't seem to keep eye contact. Uriah pulls out his phone after a minute and reluctantly, I do the same, just looking for anything to distract me from the weird disconnect that seems to be widening the chasm between us a little more each day.

I check my email, but the only thing remotely interesting there is a message from Caleb. I leave it unopened and quickly run away from the uneasy feeling I get thinking of my family by closing out of the app.

Next I go to instagram. I scroll through my feed and smile seeing a picture Uriah posted of me grinning up at him from a snowbank. I glance up at Uri and my smile falls, because I feel it again. We have so much fun out there, but once we are here in the quiet hotel room, I feel so far from him. I miss my friend, my _boyfriend_ , and I want ― no, I _need_ things to go back to the way they used to be.

I toss my phone down on the bed and clear my throat. Uriah looks up from where he has been tapping at his phone and raises an eyebrow.

I quickly search my mind for an idea of something to do together. "Do you want to, um… play a card game?" I stammer.

"Sure," Uriah nods. "Just a sec." I get up to dig through my suitcase for the playing cards while Uriah continues tapping at his phone. Once I have found them, I sit down across from him and shuffle the cards several times. Uriah sets his phone aside and steals the cards out of my hands. "You're gonna over-shuffle them." He starts dealing the cards.

"I needed something to do while I waited on you. What are we playing?"

"Speed," Uriah informs me. Of course we are. It's one of his favorites.

* * *

After several card games, we discover that _The Princess Bride_ is playing on cable and climb into bed to watch it. I think I fell asleep about halfway through the movie. When I jerk awake, the TV is playing a rerun of _Everybody Loves Raymond_. I feel the steady, slow rise and fall of Uriah's chest beneath me and know that he is asleep. I carefully get up from the bed, turn off the television and head to the bathroom. Once I have washed up and brushed my teeth, I turn out the lights and crawl into bed with Uriah.

But I can't sleep, and I lay in bed for over an hour thinking everything through. This was not how I wanted tonight to go. We have been here two nights and we haven't even really made out, let alone made love. We have never been a couple that can't keep our hands off each other, lost in passion, like Tobias and I often were. But I'm a bit older and none of this was ever so _new_ like it was with Tobias, who claimed all my firsts. I am sure it is normal for the novelty to wear off and to be a bit less "hot and heavy". Besides, Uriah is my best friend, the person I can always count on. Uriah makes me feel safe. Uriah would never abandon me.

Despite that certainty, I feel like there is a wedge between us, like we are lacking that closeness and intimacy that we have always shared. Like sort of a disconnect. At dinner there were more silences than there used to be, and they weren't the comfortable ones I am accustomed to with him. A niggling thought in the back of my mind nags at me that it's my own fault for keeping things from Uriah. I shut those thoughts away; telling Uriah the secret I have been keeping, about how I kissed Four… that won't help. It can only turn that wedge into a great big boulder and ruin at least our trip, maybe our entire relationship. So that option is off the table, and I need to stop thinking about it. I need to forget it like I told Four to do.

Alcohol would help me forget. We couldn't get into the club, but I'm of legal age here. I can go buy us some vodka or something. I'm sure it would help break some tension, and I think maybe Uriah and I need to do more in the bed together than just sleep. We seem to be at our most passionate right after a big adrenaline rush, and when we're drunk. Tomorrow's the last night of our trip, and I came into this trip determined to get our relationship back on track. If we can't fix things between us here on this trip, where we don't need to do anything else but have fun and focus on _us_ , what chance do we have at home with family and friends and an ex-boyfriend there to jumble it all up?

Knowing I have a plan for tomorrow night, one I think just might work, I finally fall asleep.

* * *

 **THURSDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2016 | 8:15 PM | TRIS**

"Tris," Uriah groans, "come on, let's just watch some TV. We just had three full days of snowboarding and I'm tired. And we have a long drive tomorrow."

I bite my lip, pausing with the fifth of rum still in my hand. My eyes flick to the television playing a re-run of _The Office._ But I don't want to just watch television. I have a plan, and that plan is to get us both a little tipsy (or, preferably, a lot drunk) so that we can relax and things can be how they used to. As I watch the show, I get an idea.

"Okay, we'll watch _The Office,_ " I say. Uriah begins to relax, but then I speak up again, jumping to my feet to grab the notepad and pen I saw on the desk in the corner. "We'll just have to turn it into a drinking game."

"Tris," he warns again.

"When did you become such a party pooper?" I accuse, coming back with my paper and pen. "If we're too tired on the drive back tomorrow, I'm sure your mom wouldn't mind us staying the night in Seattle. Come on, it will be fun. Just for one episode? Then if you want to stop, we can."

Uriah runs his hand through his hair. When he sighs, I know I've won. "Okay, what are the rules?"

I squeal happily, and begin writing it all down. A few minutes later, we have the whole game laid out. We have to take a sip (Uriah turned down my initial assertion that it should be a straight shot) every time Kelly is oblivious to Ryan's actual feelings for her, Dwight mentions being Assistant (to the) Regional Manager or his beet farm, or, of course, Michael says, "That's what she said."

"I really think that 'That's what she said' should warrant a full shot," I complain at the end of the first show. I don't know if it's the episode we are watching, or if we just haven't picked enough instances for us to drink, but game hasn't led to nearly as much alcohol consumption as I had hoped.

"Tris Prior," Uriah says, warily watching me top off his drink, "it's almost like you're trying to get me drunk."

"Why would I do that?" _And why are you complaining?_ I wonder. Since when did Uriah turn down a drink?

"That's what I'm wondering," he says. On screen, Michael blurts out his iconic "that's what she said" and I take a sip while pushing Uriah's drink closer to his face with my other hand. He pushes it away, takes my cup out of my hand and sets them both on the side table. "Tris, stop. You said one episode. What's gotten into you?"

This is not how tonight was supposed to go. I feel my hope slipping away, all my efforts failing. "I just ― I wanted ― I ―"

With a sudden burst of determination, I lunge forward, cup his face with both my hands and kiss him.

At first Uriah sits there frozen, not kissing me back, and I feel panic and embarrassment beginning to bubble inside me. But then he begins to respond and when I swipe my tongue along his lip, he grants me entrance. Slowly he leans me back onto the bed. I rub my hand gently along his back as we kiss. My hand wanders lower, slipping under the waistband of his jeans. I feel a little off somehow, just… not right… but I push the feeling away and remind myself that this is exactly what I wanted. That lost hope surges within me.

And then he pulls back.

I blink, bewildered, and look up to find that he has moved to the end of the bed, sitting on the edge, his face in his hands. "Uriah?" I ask, almost wincing at how small my voice sounds.

"Tris, I'm sorry, I ― I just can't. This doesn't feel right." Something about the way he says it leaves me feeling wrong, like I just asked him to cheat or something, and it doesn't make sense. He's my boyfriend. How could this be wrong? _It felt wrong to you, too,_ a little voice inside mocks me. I tell that little voice to shut up and summon up anger. It's anger or tears, and I don't want to cry.

"What do you mean? I'm your girlfriend, Uriah. How can this 'feel wrong'?" I ask, complete with air quotes.

"I mean ― I don't know, it just does! This just… it just isn't what I want any more, Tris."

I feel as though I have been kicked in the chest. He doesn't want me any more. No one does. Tobias left me, and no matter what he says now, I don't know how to trust him after that. My mother left too, even if it wasn't by choice. My father has made it clear that he thinks I'm defective, Caleb is never on my side. I left all my other friends behind in Chicago and I wasn't that close to them anyway, and my new friends in Portland are all more Zeke's and Uriah's friends than my own. If Uriah is leaving me behind too, I'm alone. Completely, achingly alone.

And it hurts.

"You don't want me anymore," I say. It's a statement, not a question, and I hate how pitiful my voice sounds. I thought I was past that… I thought I was stronger than that, but maybe that strength was always Uriah's and never my own. The thought makes it all even worse.

Uriah has, for so long, been the one person with whom I have allowed myself to be vulnerable. The one who I let see my tears, my pain, my grief. The person who, even if only occasionally, I allowed to see that Beatrice was still inside me. His words have hit me with the sting of betrayal. I can't be that person, that pathetic, vulnerable little girl, with him now. The anger that I tried to draw up a minute ago had receded with that gut-punched blow but I take all my determination to draw it back to the surface and keep a brave face. I straighten my back and plant my feet on the floor, sitting just at the edge of the bed as if ready to get up and leave at any moment, and glare at him with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Tris." His voice is pleading. I meet his gaze head on and see his soft brown eyes. I could swear I still see love in them, but I know that can't be, not with what he has just said. His hands go to his hair, tugging at the short strands before his palms trail down his face like he is trying to scrub the awkwardness of this situation away. "That isn't what I meant. Well, kind of, but not… let me start over, okay?"

My only response is a curt nod. I ignore the lump in my throat as I swallow past it.

"You are my best friend, Tris. The very best friend I have ever had. I never want that to change, never ever. I need you to understand that, Tris." I nod again, taking a deliberate, slow, even breath to help hold back my tears. "But I've realized that… that maybe that's all we're really meant to be. Just best friends."

My heart pounding becomes less noticeable. His words calm me slightly, though I'm not even sure I understand why. I feel Uriah's strong arms slide under my thighs and around my back, then a feeling of weightlessness before I am settled in Uriah's lap with his arms wrapped tightly around me.

"There's always been something missing between us, Tris," he nearly whispers. "I didn't realize it until… until I felt it for someone else."

His admission just about stops my heart and I try to scramble out of his lap, but Uriah holds me firmly against him. I push against his chest, trying to get away. Because it sounds a lot like he's trying to tell me that he's been cheating on me. If that's the case, screw all his pretty words about me being his best friend, because I can't be best friends with someone would treat me that way.

"Stop, Tris!" his firm voice filters through the rushing white noise in my head and I realize that he's been talking to me, trying to calm me, and I wasn't even hearing him. I'm not sure I want to listen, but it's clear that he isn't about to let me run from this conversation, because he is still holding firmly onto me. So I stop struggling, but keep my muscles tense, not allowing him to comfort me, not letting myself relax into him. "Just stop and listen, and talk to me about this, okay?"

"How long?" I am surprised how strong and hard my own voice sounds when I am breaking inside. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

"It hasn't come to that, Tris," he soothes. "I would never do that to you. _Never._ But I have feelings for Marlene. And it's made me realize, I… I don't… you're gorgeous and beautiful and sexy but you're my best friend, and that's all. I feel… differently for Marlene, than I do for you."

The betrayal is still there, hearing him talk about his feelings for Marlene, knowing all the time he has spent with her right under my nose. But at the same time, I feel some of the tension ebb away with his reassurance that he didn't, wouldn't go behind my back like that. I still feel the need to ask for clarification.

"So… nothing has happened? Nothing at all?" I ask, giving myself a mental pat on the back for my even voice.

He hesitates and that yo-yo of emotions swings back toward anger. "I've kissed her on the cheek," he admits miserably. "We ― I don't know, we hug sometimes. More than sometimes. A lot."

"Hug." My voice is flat, from confusion more than anything else. He must know I wouldn't be upset over him hugging a friend.

"It's like ―" he runs his fingers through his hair, frustration visible on his face. When he continues, I can hear his struggle to communicate, to find the right words. "I was careful not to let things ever go into...dangerous territory. But it _felt_ wrong, because of the feelings behind it all. And...I don't think I'm the only one that's going through something like this," he finishes with a knowing look.

I jump to my feet, suddenly feeling the flood of guilt as his words remind me of that stolen kiss by candlelight. "Are you accusing me of something?" I bite out defensively.

"No," Uriah says calmly. "I don't know if anything has happened with you and Four, you haven't wanted to talk about him. And I trust you, Tris, so I don't really think you would do that. But I can't shake the feeling that...that you two must have had something special. Because you still do. I can still see it, even when you're mad at him, or ignoring him. Tris, I'm not the right man for you. Tobias is."

It doesn't escape me that he used Four's real name ― something that I make a point to never do, even in my own mind. I keep Four and Tobias separate, keep Tobias safely tucked away in that box of memories that Hana brought to Seattle with my other things. I was even tempted to leave it there in Hana's garage instead of loading it into Zeke's truck with my other boxes the day after Christmas.

Except for that night, during the snowstorm. While Four and I were cuddled on the couch to keep warm, it was like someone took the Four box and the Tobias box that are usually kept so carefully separate in my mind, dumped them out, and mixed the contents together. I have spent the last few weeks methodically sorting it all back the way it should be, avoiding Four as much as possible so that he can't kick them over and jumble it all up again.

"Tris?" Uriah asks. "Will you please talk to me? I've been afraid to ask too much about you and Four. I couldn't until I was ready to tell you about Marlene but...I'm still your best friend, you know. You can talk to me."

I open my mouth to speak, then snap it closed. I feel sick with the guilt gnawing at my stomach, I feel hot with panic, I feel the heat behind my eyes. My composure is quickly unraveling. "I need a minute," I manage to say. Then I am pushing away from him, feeling his arms fall away, and I speed walk into the bathroom.

Once the door is locked behind me and the bathroom fan is fired up to drown out the sounds of my irregular breathing, and hopefully any imminent crying, I lean against the counter in front of the sink. I keep my gaze on the white-knuckled grip of my hands on the counter's edge, avoiding meeting my own eyes in the mirror.

How can I tell Uriah that I kissed Four? I can't even put the blame on Four, because I was the one who initiated it. Just minutes ago I was thinking that he had cheated on me, and that I couldn't continue to be friends with him if he had. Now he has spent the last few minutes reassuring me that I'm not losing him, that he still cares for me as much as he always has. Telling him the truth could destroy all that. The thought terrifies me, and I choke back a sob.

But I can't lie to him.

I let the tears fall, but not for long. I only give myself a few moments to succumb to the overwhelming emotions before I focus on steadying my breathing, pushing back the tears, putting the mask back in place. I splash cold water on my face and dry it on the bathroom towel, wiping away most of my makeup in the process. Slowly, I turn away from the sink, straighten up and hold my head high. Then I twist the handle and open the door.

Uriah sits stiffly where I left him at the edge of the bed, looking like he is about to face his executioner. I sit down beside him with my hands trapped beneath my thighs. I take a deep breath, look straight ahead and begin to speak.

"It's been hard, and confusing, living with Four," I say. Pausing for another steadying breath, I feel Uriah's eyes on me but I don't look at him. "I hated him, then we were kind of friends, other than the occasional argument...usually because he forgets that I'm not the same girl he knew back in Chicago. And I know he's not the same either. But we were getting to know each other again and I think we were starting up a new friendship, as the people we are now."

Uriah's hand slides down my forearm and pries my hand from under my leg. I allow him to wrap his hand around mine. He squeezes to encourage me to continue, and I allow my eyes to flick to his face, just for a moment. He is patiently waiting, not a hint of anger or judgment.

"What happened while I was in Seattle a few weeks ago?" Uriah prompts me.

"The power went out, and it was cold in the apartment. Really cold. Blankets weren't enough. He suggested cuddling to stay warm. I said no, I didn't feel right about it, but then I just couldn't stop shivering and I knew he was right, we didn't have another option, I had to...we had to…" I shrug.

"For what it's worth," Uriah cuts in, "I would have told you to listen to him. Maybe if you hadn't resisted so long you might not have gotten sick."

"Yeah, maybe." I meet his eyes then. "But I didn't have to kiss him." Uriah's jaw clenches, then he nods and looks away. "I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking. It felt like before, and he was opening up to me, giving me the answers I have needed for so long, and I just, I don't know. Instinct took over, or something. I don't know." My control is crumbling, and a single tear escapes my eye. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I'm so sorry."

I close my eyes and breathe in deep through my nose, slowly out my mouth, fighting once again to regain my composure. I feel Uriah's arms around me again, his chin on the top of my head, and I finally let myself relax into his embrace.

"It's okay," he murmurs, repeating himself a few times. "It's okay, Tris. I forgive you. We're alright. Best friends. It'll be different than before, but you still have me, I promise. You'll see. It will be better this way." I nod against his chest and try to believe him.

"I really think you should give him another chance," Uriah says after a minute. "I think you could be really happy with him. Let yourself be happy, Tris."

I don't answer at first. I don't know if I can trust Tobias again, I'm not even sure if I want to try. But I do trust Uriah and he knows me better than anyone, so I decide that I will take my time in considering it.

When Uriah's hug has calmed me enough it almost feels like a weight has been lifted off me. I had not realized how heavily the guilt from Four's kiss had been weighing on me these past few weeks. Maybe he's right. Maybe it really will all be OK now.

"I'll think about it," I finally assure him. Then I pull away, put my feet on the floor, and stand. "Right. So, how about another round of The Office drinking game?"

"Still trying to get me drunk?" he jokes.

I grin. "Yep. This time, just for fun though. No ulterior motive."

He grins back. "Just like old times. I'm in."


	43. 43: Love Hopes All Things

_I finally finished another chapter! I wish I could promise to get another update out soon. Hoping things in my personal life will get sorted soon so that I can get back in a groove. Thanks for your patience. And have a safe and happy Thanksgiving!_

* * *

 **Chapter 43  
** _ **Love Hopes All Things**_

 **MONDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2016 | 5:50 AM | FOUR**

I have tossed and turned all night, never quite managing to drift off. I lay on Hana Pedrad's couch, staring at the popcorn ceiling. A few yards away, Zeke is on an air mattress on the floor, snoring like a jackhammer. But I can sleep through noise. Zeke's snoring is not the thing that has kept me awake. I have no one to blame for that but myself… and maybe Tris.

God, that woman is stubborn. When she has her mind set, it's like talking to a brick wall. When she crashed back into my life four months ago, she turned my world upside down. I had been content enough… settled. My life was predictable, dependable, and uninspired. I drifted from one day to the next, going through the motions, working day by day toward a future that would be ordinary and unremarkable, but comfortable and safe.

Beatrice's sudden reappearance challenged it all. She brought all the memories back in technicolor, and suddenly I could no longer be content with mediocrity. For my last two years in Chicago, Beatrice Prior was my light at the end of the tunnel, the sun shining through the clouds. When I was with her, colors were brighter and the world held promise and possibility. Each time I returned home was jarring, because the brightness of my world with Beatrice only made the contrast to my bleak life in Marcus's home that much sharper.

Now she was back in my life, and it was like I woke up. It didn't change what I did each day, but it did change the way I felt. It didn't take long for me to promise myself that I wouldn't give up on Tris Prior. Whether I should be fortunate enough to win her love once again, I would no longer settle for a life that didn't include Tris. In that moment, I must have forgotten that she is as stubborn as a rock. No, not a rock. A boulder. Or maybe a mountain. For all the promises I made to myself, I realize now that I underestimated Tris Prior, and I'm not sure it's possible to come back from the mistake I made two years ago. I am no longer sure that I should continue to try.

When I approached Tris last night, I was determined to get her to finally talk to me, to clear the air between us. It didn't go well. She insisted that we have both moved on. I have been holding onto the idea that she hasn't really moved on or she wouldn't have kissed me, but maybe we can't come back from everything that has happened between us. And she cited that encounter with Nita as evidence that I have moved on as well. I told her I haven't, and I meant it. Sure, I have been with other girls… why wouldn't I when I thought I would never seen her again? But they were only distractions. I never cared about any of them. None of them could ever even hope to compare to her. I never stopped wanting my Beatrice back, but it might be time to accept that those feelings are one-sided.

In the end, she demanded that I give her space. I was so frustrated, so discouraged, I gave up in that moment. "If space is what you want, fine," I told her. "Take all the space you need." I didn't mean it. But I know I have to keep my word and give her what she's asking for. It's time to leave the ball in her court, knowing she may never volley it back.

My limbs are heavy and sore with exhaustion, but I have to move. My gym isn't an option this morning, but I can go out for an early morning run. I can't just lay here any longer with my thoughts running in tortuous circles. I throw off the blanket and stand, quietly stretching my limbs in an attempt to work the ache from my muscles. After I have folded the blanket and set it neatly on top of my pillow, I pad into the kitchen for a glass of water.

As I approach the kitchen, I breathe in the aroma of fresh, hot coffee. I don't know how Hana sneaked in here without me hearing, but there she is, piling at least a half-dozen loaves of sandwich bread on the kitchen table between a brown paper grocery bag and steaming mug.

"Good morning, Four," Hana smiles. "You're up early. Help yourself to some coffee." She gestures to the coffee maker on the countertop.

Acknowledging her with a nod, I grab a mug out of the cabinet. As I pour my coffee, I notice a jar of Tris's favorite hot chocolate mix nearby on the counter and can't help but smile. It has become very clear to me during my visit here that Hana loves Tris almost as if Tris were her own child.

I lean back against the kitchen counter, watching Hana arrange slices of bread on a large cutting board. She reaches into the paper grocery bag and pulls out a large jar of peanut butter.

"What's all this?" I ask, crossing the small kitchen to sit at the table.

Hana smiles. "Sandwiches for the homeless. We'll go downtown this afternoon, hand them out." She pauses, considering me for a moment. She begins spreading peanut butter on the next slice of bread and continues, "It's a new tradition we started after Jacob passed."

Tris and her mother used to volunteer at a soup kitchen at least once a month, and they always made sure to serve others on holidays. Natalie was so generous and caring. I loved seeing Tris after those volunteer shifts. After, she always had this extra spark. I was never sure if it was because she felt fulfilled by helping others, or if that was simply the effect of Natalie's encouraging companionship. Maybe it was both. Regardless, it was such a contrast to the nights that I would comfort her after an evening of her dad's criticisms. I hope I will get to see that spark again this afternoon.

"That sounds like something Tris would enjoy," I observe. "Has she come with you before this?"

Hana smiles. "Every year. Tris and her mother enjoyed volunteering together. I think Uriah came up with the idea as a way to help Tris feel closer to Natalie after she passed." Half the bread is now spread with peanut butter. Hana pulls a jar of jelly out of the paper bag and begins to spread it on the other bread slices; I stand, fish the box of plastic sandwich bags out of the brown paper bag, and begin packaging up the sandwiches.

"Thank you," I say. Hana gives me a questioning look. I clear my throat. "For being there for her when Natalie…"

Hana nods, a sad smile on her lips. "Although he always had Zeke and myself...I try not to wonder where Uriah would be, how he would have dealt with Jacob's death, if Tris had not come into his life. Whether things work out between them or not, their friendship is unbreakable. She's family now. Lord knows she doesn't have enough of it on her own."

"She won't talk about them," I admit. "Her dad, Caleb."

Hana nods, but she doesn't tell me anything about Tris's family. "You care about her," she observes instead. I keep my eyes on my work, as though it requires 100% of my attention, but Hana knows I am avoiding her comment. "It's in your eyes. And in hers." At that, my eyes snap up to meet Hana's. Hana pats my arm. "Be patient, Four."

Hana turns away. As I watch her walk to the sink and wash her hands, my mind races with what Hana has just said. She could see it in my eyes that I "care" for Tris and she sees that Tris cares for me, too. I shake my head and look away. Hana doesn't know about our history. She's only seeing an echo of a time long past. I told Tris everything, I have given her time, but she won't forgive me. She only wants more "space." I just need to accept that it's over, no matter how much I love her.

Again, I feel the need to move. I quietly slip out of the kitchen to get ready for a good, long run.

* * *

 **MONDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2016 | 8:45 PM | FOUR**

"No baby fight club this week?" Zeke jokes as he slows to stop at a red light. We are finally back in Portland. Almost home.

"Jesus, Zeke, do you have to call it that?" I hate it when he calls it that, the image it conjures makes me sick. Fight clubs are no joke and something he knows nothing about while I know far more than I wish to. I'm teaching these kids to protect themselves, not go around mindlessly brawling.

Zeke shrugs. He doesn't know about my past, so he has no idea how much it really bothers me.

"We're on break for the holidays. The next term doesn't start up for another two weeks," I answer.

"How do you find time for that? Man, outside of work and school, I'll take every free moment I can get."

"It's only one hour a week," I remind him.

"On your night off," he counters. "Admit it, it's nice to have a break for a few weeks."

I shrug. I don't mind having a month of totally free Monday nights, but I find myself worrying about Fernando more and more often the longer I go without seeing him. He reminds me too much of myself. I wish he would come to me for help, but I understand why he won't. After all, I didn't ask for help when I was in his position. I didn't even tell Tris what was happening to me at home; quite to the contrary, I went out of my way to hide it from her.

After my conversation with Hana, I watched Tris. I looked for any sign that she missed me. But whatever Hana thinks she saw, I don't see it. Tris avoided me every chance she got and stuck close to Uriah. Maybe Hana didn't even mean what I wanted her to mean in the first place. How could she? Tris is her own son's longtime girlfriend. Hana wouldn't encourage me to wait for Tris; it's absurd.

When Zeke drives right past my street, I groan. "Zeke, whatever you have planned, no. Just take me home. Plus, we need to take the boxes up to the apartment."

"The boxes can wait," he waves me off. "Some friend of a friend of Shauna's is having this huge party tonight and I told her we'd meet her there."

"A party? On a Monday?"

Zeke grins. "The beauty of Christmas Break. Come on, man, you need to loosen up. Release some _tension,_ if you know what I mean."

"Everyone always knows what you mean, Zeke," I grumble. I square my jaw, about to argue with him about this plan of his. But then I give it a second thought. Maybe for once Zeke is right. I don't want to think about Tris and Uriah, or that kiss a few weeks ago, or the past. I don't want to feel any of it right now. I just want a break, a distraction. I slump back into the seat

"Fine," I say. Then, to keep him from being suspicious about how quickly I give up, I sarcastically add, "Merry Christmas."

The house is big and full of people. Booze is plentiful, and I take full advantage. Lauren, who works at my gym, finds me early in the party and I don't stop her from hanging off my arm tonight. The more I drink, the more attractive she looks. She makes a good distraction.

After a few hours, we are stumbling upstairs to a bedroom. I kiss her so she won't keep up the conversation that I am too drunk to follow, not that she's complaining, she eagerly kisses me back. I let her take the lead and just feel her lips on me, her touch feels good, why has it been so long since I last did anything like this? I should listen to Zeke more often. This is good.

We take off each other's shirts and my hands roam her body. I don't feel like looking, I just keep kissing and caressing her. _No thinking, no looking, no talking, just feeling._ But then she moans and it's the wrong moan, the wrong voice.

 _No, this is what I wanted. Distraction. No thinking_.

Her hands are at the fly of my jeans. _This is what I wanted_.

But she isn't Tris.

 _No thinking. Distraction. Forget about Tris._

Whatever she's doing to that spot just below my ear… _shit._ I push up her skirt and my fingers find the edge of her panties.

 _No thinking._

I can just lose myself in this. I can ―

I jerk upright at the shrill of a smoke alarm, suddenly feeling a lot more sober than before. In moments, we have thrown on our shirts and otherwise made ourselves decent. It turns out it was only someone smoking in the bathroom, but I can't bring myself to go back to Lauren. I leave without saying goodbye to her, or even Zeke and Shauna, and sober up on the two-mile walk back to my apartment.

* * *

 **TUESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2016 | 3:15 PM | FOUR**

Zeke comes over before work to move the last of Tris' and Uriah's moving boxes, which fill the bed of Zeke's truck. I would rather have gotten the task over with as soon as we got home, but in typical Zeke Pedrad fashion, he preferred to procrastinate. He probably would have put it off until the day Tris and Uriah come back if Shauna hadn't pointed out that they would need the truck for their snowboards tomorrow.

Zeke ran late this afternoon (as usual), so we're crunched for time getting this stuff moved before we have to go to work tonight. I carry two boxes at a time up the stairs while Zeke tries to stack the last boxes five high, then ends up abandoning a few boxes halfway up the stairs.

"What happened with Lauren last night?" Zeke asks with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. "You disappeared after that little fire drill. She was looking for you."

I shrug and avoid eye contact. "We fooled around. But I wasn't feeling it after we got interrupted." We start down the stairs to get the boxes that Zeke left there.

Zeke shakes his head. "I just don't get you, man. That girl is desperate to get you into bed, how do you keep passing that up?"

"She's not my type," I say flatly. In truth, I am not sure I understand what happened. All I really know is that when that smoke alarm went off, my head cleared and it all just felt _wrong._

"Your type," Zeke repeats. "So, pray tell, what _is_ your type?"

 _Short and blonde,_ _stubborn and sarcastic,_ I think as I answer Zeke, "Just drop it, man."

Zeke rolls his eyes and picks up the largest box, leaving me to grab the remaining two. But I find that there is only one there. Looking down the stairs, I groan seeing that the last one ― an old, large shoebox ― has tumbled down the stairs. I jog to the bottom to find that the old rubber band that had held it closed snapped and the lid has popped off the box, allowing some of its contents to spill on the landing.

I automatically begin to quickly pick up the items, but when I realize what I am holding, I freeze and my hands begin to shake. In one hand I hold a stack of photos featuring a very familiar couple. In the other rests the charm bracelet I gave Tris for her sixteenth birthday. I close my fingers around it, pressing the very first charm ― the ferris wheel ― painfully into my palm. I never thought I would see this again. When we were together, Beatrice wore it every single day. I was sure she had gotten rid of it, along with every other reminder of me. But here it is.

I stay frozen there long enough that Zeke comes looking for me. I hear him calling my name down the stairwell and quickly answer, telling him that I'll be up in a minute. I can't contemplate what this means right now, so I quickly return the photos and bracelet to the box, forcing myself not to look to see what else is in there right now, and run up the stairs with the last two boxes.

* * *

 **WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2016 | 1:40 AM | FOUR**

All night at work, my mind kept drifting back to what I found. It only got worse when I arrived home and knew the box was within reach. She kept things… she kept memories of me. I thought she had done whatever she could to forget me when I left; I would have expected her to toss it all in the trash, or burn it in a symbolic gesture of cleansing me from her past. The question that keeps running through my mind is, why did she keep it?

I pace to my closet and push aside the clothes hanging there. On the back wall hangs the painting of the ferris wheel. Tris worked so hard on it as a gift for our first anniversary, and it is one of my most treasured possessions. I could never part with it, because it represents the love we shared… the love I still feel for her. Not many things survived the long journey from Chicago to Portland, but I carefully protected this painting, along with my mother's sculpture and a stack of photos, most of which featured Beatrice. I even fought off a gang of guys much bigger and tougher than I was to keep them from absconding with my treasures. And to me, these items truly _are_ treasures.

Why would she hold onto these things, even through a cross-country move? And what else is in that box?

I go through my usual bedtime routine: after I have showered and brushed my teeth, I dress in a pair of sweatpants and no shirt and climb under the covers to keep warm. I toss and turn, but sleep never finds me. The longer I lay there, the more my curiosity grows and my self-control wanes. Hana's words echo in my ears: _You care about her. It's in your eyes...and in hers._ I had brushed that notion aside, but now…

I have to know what is in that box, but I know I shouldn't look. I can't. It's Tris's, and it's private. It would be wrong to invade her privacy.

But she isn't here. I could go and look, and she would never know.

The clock reads 3:07 when curiosity wins and I climb out of bed. I shiver when the cold air of the apartment hits my skin and quickly pull on a sweatshirt. I switch on as few lights as possible and creep silently on light feet, feeling as if I am sneaking around my own empty apartment. I push aside the guilt that is creeping in. _I have to know._ With shaking hands, I pick up the box and carry it back to my room.

Sitting in the middle of my bed, I carefully lift the lid off the top and take out the items one by one, pausing to remember the moment each item represents.

I close my eyes and remember the passionate kiss Tris planted on my lips when I gave her the bracelet. The ferris wheel charm takes me back to the way Tris distracted me from my fear of heights on our first group date. There is no better distraction than a first kiss with a girl you're crazy about.

The dried rose reminds me of how beautiful she looked the night we celebrated our six-month anniversary. Marcus was out of town, and I served her a home-cooked, candlelit dinner before I took her upstairs and made love to her for the first time. It was one of the best nights of my life.

Many of the photos are copies of the same ones I carried with me when I ran from Chicago, and I feel warmth spread from my chest right through to my fingers and toes knowing that Tris thought those same moments were worth remembering.

There's a ticket stub from our first real date; I was so nervous that I somehow managed to buy tickets to _My Little Pony: Equestria Girls_ by mistake. We had to sneak into _The Maze Runner_ once we entered the theater, and Tris teased me about it for weeks. I didn't mind, I didn't care what it was she was saying, so long as she was spending time with me.

Memory after memory floods me as I pull out the sentimental items. I am blown away by all the things that Tris had saved. I also have the fleeting thought that I kind of wish I could have my Cubs baseball cap back; I had unintentionally left it in Tris's car and had to leave it behind when I left Chicago. Maybe one day, she will show me this box, and I can have it back. But I know I can never tell her I invaded her privacy this way. And I can always get another Cubs hat.

I continue to mull over what I have found as I carefully return the memories to the box, close the lid, and bring it back to Tris' and Uriah's room. I feel an extra stab of guilt as I rearrange the boxes so the one I peeked at is not right at the top of the stacks. It is after four o'clock in the morning, but I know I won't be getting to sleep anytime soon so I grab a beer from the fridge, pull on a jacket and go out the sliding glass door. I plug in the multi-colored fairy lights Tris has strung around the balcony in recognition of the Christmas season and settle into one of the tattered patio chairs.

The cold, December night air clears my head. I feel guilty for invading Tris's privacy, yes, but when I look past that, there isn't just a knot in my stomach, but a fluttering. A good kind of nervousness. A sense of optimism has begun to take me over.

 _You care about her. It's in your eyes...and in hers._

I smile. She's still with Uriah, and things are still rocky between us, but maybe it's not time to give up yet.

Because I realize what I am now feeling: it's hope.


	44. Ch 44: The Wall Between Us

_Happy early Christmas! I'm feeling a bit panicked at the fact that it's 11 days away... so I'd say it's pretty unlikely that I'll be getting another chapter to you before then. But I wasn't even sure I'd get this one written as quickly as I did with such a crazy month, so maybe another will be done before the new year? Crossing my fingers!_

 _I planned on this chapter going on for at least one more scene, but it ended up making sense to break it into two chapters, and it also meant that I could update that much sooner. I hope you enjoy, and as always... thank you for your follows, favorites, and especially to those of you who take a few minutes to review!_

* * *

 **Chapter 44  
** _ **The Wall Between Us**_

 **FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2016 | 9:10 PM | URIAH**

Telling Tris about my feelings for Marlene was like a weight lifted. Back in Chicago, Tris and I never kept secrets from each other, apart from that pregnancy scare during our junior year. As soon as we arrived in Portland, that changed. I knew that we needed to make the roommate situation with Four work, so I hid my jealousy and played peacemaker. It felt so wrong to keep things from her, we were so out of sync. I'm not gonna lie, it sucked to hear that she had kissed Four...but I wasn't surprised.

The longer I live with those two, the more obvious it is to me that they belong to each other. There is always so much tension between them, you can feel it just walking into a room they are in. I didn't understand it until I felt the same thing between me and Marlene. That was when I realized it wasn't just because of Tris' resentment at the way he left. It wasn't their most recent disagreement, or the living situation. It was a sexual tension that Tris and I had never had between us.

I started to feel guilty anytime Marlene and I hung out alone…but I pretended not to notice, because I still enjoyed the time with her too much to stop. Anytime I hugged her, I told myself that it was totally normal for friends to hug...and ignored the fact that we held on long enough to come dangerously close to being considered "holding" each other. It was one day not long before Tris and I drove up to Mom's place for Christmas that I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I kissed Marlene's cheek, and felt the butterflies swarming my stomach when I saw her blush afterward.

After that, every quiet moment with Tris made me feel sick. I couldn't ignore what I now knew was missing. I was going to come clean with Tris as soon as we got back from Christmas at Mom's; I could finally see what a long time coming this had been, and there was no point in dragging things out. The thing about Tris's stubborn nature that I find admirable is that she doesn't give up; every time she gets knocked down, she gets straight back to her feet. I knew I would have to be the one to end things between us, because Tris wouldn't. But then Tris surprised me with the trip to Whistler and I couldn't stand to ruin it.

With all the secrets out now, the long drive back to Portland has been amazing. I didn't realize how much I had missed the easy friendship we have always had until I got it back. I have not wanted to bring up anything that might kill the vibe we've got going here, but we are less than an hour away from Portland. I know one of us has to bring it up.

"Tris," I say when we reach a lull in the conversation, "what are we gonna do about the apartment?"

She worries her lip and shakes her head. "I used up a lot of savings for the trip." She sounds like she is apologizing. I've told her not to a dozen times now, so I ignore it.

"We could just share the bed still," I shrug. "Doesn't bother me."

Tris scoffs and looks at me like I'm stupid. "Oh, I'm sure Marlene would just _love_ that."

"Just 'cause we're in the same bed doesn't mean anything has to happen, we sleep in the bed together all the time without screwing," I tell her.

"Uriah," Tris sounds exasperated, "your new girlfriend is not going to want you sleeping in the same bed as your ex. End of."

"She's not my girlfriend, yet," I mumble.

Tris rolls her eyes. "Please. You can't wait to get home and call her, admit it."

I don't like the direction this conversation is going. "Maybe," I mutter.

"And she's probably waiting by the phone."

"She does have other friends besides me, you know." I grimace. "It's not like we have declared our feelings to each other, Tris. No way was that happening while you and I were still together. You know I'm not that kind of guy. And Marlene is better than that, too."

"That doesn't make me wrong," Tris sing-songs.

I look at her, just for a moment before turning my eyes back to the road. Tris is the best friend I have ever had, she has been for the past two-and-a-half years and continues to prove just how incredible she is. I know she's sad, I know our break-up is throwing her off-balance. But she still just wants me to be happy. And that's all I want for her, too.

I reach across the console and take Tris's hand. "Thank you," I say. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Tris looks confused and shrugs. She clears her throat and changes the subject. "So, sleeping in the bed together is out. Any other ideas?"

"I could sleep on the couch," I suggest. "It wouldn't be for long."

"Why's that?" she inquires.

I wiggle my eyebrows. "There's someone else in the apartment that I know would _love_ to share a bed with you," I tell her.

"Uriah," Tris warns.

"What? He'd probably jump to clear out half the closet for you," I chuckle.

"You aren't the only reason Four and I are not together, you know."

I shake my head. Why does Tris always have to be so damn stubborn? "Don't try to tell me you aren't still in love with him, Beatrice."

"Exactly. _Beatrice_ was irrevocably in love with Tobias Eaton. _Tris_ has never been in love with Four."

"Okay, first of all," I begin, "I know you're not the same as you were when we met. A lot has happened and you have grown and changed. But...you will always be Beatrice."

"I'm not―"

"Yes, you are. Everyone grows and changes, I'm not the same as I was two-and-a-half years ago, but I'm still Uriah. And, deep down, you, or at least a core part of you, are still Beatrice, and Four is still Tobias." Tris shakes her head, but I pretend not to notice. "And second… _you_ kissed _him_ , Tris."

"That was… it was a moment of nostalgia. It just felt like old times and I got carried away, I told you that."

Does she hear herself? "Exactly. Because deep down, you are still Beatrice and Tobias."

"I'm not moving into Four's room, Uriah."

I look at her face and I know there is no point in pushing this topic any more. I've lived with them for the last four months and I know Tris. I know I'm right about this, now that I can finally admit it to myself. Besides, she has every right to be cautious after the way he left her… even if I do think she is only preventing herself from being happy. I let myself make one last remark. "I just think you should consider giving him another chance, Tris."

Tris does not reply. She stares out the window for a long time. After I know we have been silent a little too long, I want that happy vibe back, so I wrap up the topic. "I'll just sleep on the couch for now. We can figure it out later."

"Okay," Tris says, finally looking at me.

"Good. Now, I have an important question. Are you still off this Sunday? Cause I want my snowboarding buddy up on the mountain with me." We move right into easy conversation, forgetting the tense discussion we had.

* * *

 **FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2016 | 11:45 PM | FOUR**

The water is hot, fogging the air around me with steam. It runs over my shoulders and back, soothing and relaxing the muscles that ache from this morning's long session at the gym and a tedious mid-shift walking around the Intel campus, working security. It drips from my hair, which has grown long enough to cover the top of my tattoo at the back of my neck, much longer than I ever used to wear it. It washes away both the grime and the stress of the day...and my disappointment over my reunion with Tris.

I knew she would be home tonight, and I didn't know what to expect. The atmosphere between us has been strained lately to say the least, but I see everything in a new light after discovering all the mementos she kept from our high school romance. A part of me doesn't know what to think, but deep down I am dancing for joy, certain that our story is not over yet. And that ecstatic, hopeful part of me dared to believe that during these few days apart, Tris would have let go of what happened a few weeks ago, let go of our Christmas Day argument in Hana's kitchen and at least let us go back to the friendship that we had begun to strengthen before the snowstorm. For weeks I have missed our quiet mornings reading, the way we seamlessly worked together in the kitchen, and our evenings playing cards... and more than anything, the ease our conversations had finally gained.

There was no ease in my conversation with Tris tonight. I was happy to see her, but she seemed indifferent. She was polite enough; she answered my questions about the trip, told me about her favorite slopes and even a little about some of the restaurants they tried. But she kept her answers very surface level. It was all stuff you would tell your boss if they asked about your vacation. There were none of the personal stories and funny moments you share with a friend.

I take my time washing my hair and body and rinse much longer than needed. When I finally shut off the water, I lean my forehead against the tile wall and bring all my emotions back under control. I feel like I am falling more in love with Tris every day while she rejects me again and again. I can't let her detachment get to me, or continuing to live with the happy couple will only become more and more tortuous.

Finally, I let out a deep breath, straighten up, and step out of the shower. After towel drying my hair and body, I wrap the towel around my waist and examine my face in the mirror. Dark blue eyes I hate; I inherited the color from Marcus. I know Beatrice always loved my eyes... I wonder if Tris hates them now, after Marcus's harassment. Does she wonder what else I might have inherited from that bastard?

I run my fingers over my stubble and consider leaving it, purely out of laziness. _You have no one to impress_ , my more cynical side sneers. But the hopeful side insists that Tris and I aren't done yet and reminds me not to give up on her, not even for a moment. I carefully shave my face smooth, then brush and floss my teeth.

Once I am satisfied that I look and smell clean and tidy, and that my towel is securely in place, I go down the hall, listening to the tv droning from the living room. In my room, I dress in joggers and a black t-shirt and some thick socks; another cold front seems to be moving in, and the apartment is getting chilly again. I decide I want a beer to wind down before bed, and I brace myself for the inevitable sight of Tris and Uriah cuddling on the couch. No doubt they are better than ever after their romantic getaway. While snowboarding is their usual adventuresome brand of fun, I can only imagine that their evenings were spent curled up by a fire while the snow fell softly outside the window. I feel warm imagining me and Tris in that position, then the thought of Uriah hits me like a cold bucket of water. I shake my head and start for the kitchen.

The sight when I exit the hallway stops me in my tracks. It is not at all what I had expected. Tris is not cuddled on the couch with Uriah; in fact, Uriah is there alone. What alarms me is that he isn't just watching TV... he is laying with his feet at one end of the couch, his head on a bed pillow at the other end, and a thick blanket covering his whole body. Just as if he has camped out there for the night.

I see that he is still wide awake, watching a stand-up act on Comedy Central, so as I walk to the kitchen I call out, "Want a beer, man?"

"Sure, thanks," Uriah answers. I grab two beers from the fridge, pop off the bottle caps, and join him in the living room. Uriah sits up and moves his blanket out of my way, then accepts the beer. We watch the show in silence and sip our beers for a couple minutes while I try to figure out what to say. He must have pissed Tris off somehow, and it must have been bad. In the four months they have lived here, Tris has never banished Uriah to the couch, and I can't think of any other reason for him to sleep there.

I keep trying to think of ways to ask but none of them sound believably casual, so I finally just ask. "What did you do?" I ask, glancing at the pillow pointedly with my eyes.

Uriah looks startled. "She didn't tell you?" he asks.

I snort. "With how friendly she has been lately with me? No, she doesn't tell me about your fights, if you ever even have them." Tris and Uriah almost always seem to get along like twins separated at birth. Not that they are exactly alike, but they just always seem so content together. It's like they can anticipate each other's moods. When we were together, Tris and I had our share of fights. Once we didn't speak to each other for almost a week. My stubborn girl.

Uriah sighs and shakes his head. "We broke up."

All I can do is stare. I feel like a cartoon character with my mouth hanging open but I am just frozen. How could they have broken up? Again... they never argue. Could she have told him about the kiss...is that what this is about? Is it wrong that I don't really care, if it means one less obstacle between me and Tris?

Uriah lets the news sink in then continues. "We're better as friends. _Best_ friends, that will never change. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am attracted to Tris. But we're more like companions, not lovers. I'm interested in someone else, and Tris..." he glances toward their bedroom. "Well. She deserves something more than what we had together." He gives me this look, like a guy sizing up his little sister's boyfriend. I have to be dreaming this entire conversation. "She needs someone who challenges her and inspires her. She's got all this passion, you know? That fire in her? The first time I really saw it was when I took her cliff jumping. Every new adventure, that's my favorite part ― seeing that fire in her eyes. You see it, don't you?"

I nod, smiling fondly. "Volunteering with Natalie always had that effect on her, too."

Uriah snorts, and I glare. "I'm sure it did," he assures me. "It's just… don't you see it?"

I shake my head, getting annoyed with him. "I just told you I did."

Now he huffs, like he's the one that is getting frustrated, and stares at me like I'm an idiot. "You, Four. _You_ have that effect on her. Even when she's angry with you, you put that fire in her eyes, just by showing up."

Then he grasps my arm in a friendly, firm grip and looks me in the eye. "Don't fuck up again, Tobias."

I slowly nod. I can't believe he's sitting there basically telling me to go get the girl. I am soaring at the knowledge that he believes it is possible...maybe even inevitable. I glance in the direction of the bedrooms, where I know Tris is. Alone. And my spirits plummet.

"Is she OK?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says. But he takes a second too long to answer, and I am quickly on my feet. "If she didn't tell you herself, she probably doesn't want to talk about it," Uriah warns as I walk away.

I reach her closed bedroom door and knock. "Tris?" I say through the door.

No response. I know she is still up, I can see the light shining through under the door. So I knock and call for her again, wait, and repeat.

I hear a muffled growl. "Go away, Four. I'm trying to sleep."

I call her bluff. "No you're not. Your light was still on."

Silence. "Tris," I say.

"What do you want, Four?" she says, resigned. I like my nickname a little less every time I hear her say it.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

I lean my forehead against the door, close my eyes, and let my shoulders slump. Through the door it is, then. "I found Uriah getting ready to sleep on the couch," I say. More silence. "He told me why he was out there."

A pause. "And?" The sass in her tone is unmistakable.

I curse under my breath at her snark. "Tris, I just wanted to know if you were okay."

"Yeah." It took a second too long for her to answer, and I hear the tightness in her voice.

"Tris," I plead again.

"Four," she sighs.

I know she isn't going to let me in, as much as I wish she would. Alone in her room is better than alone getting wasted at a bar, but I still hate knowing that she is hurting with no one to be with her. I remember Natalie once saying that sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them. I want to do that for Tris. But she won't let me.

"Look, just knock on the wall if you change your mind or if you need anything."

"Mmm hmm," I hear. She's either crying, or she's about to.

I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling for words. "You know you can talk to me, don't you?" I hate that I even have to ask or remind her.

"Yeah." Her voice is soft, I can barely hear her through the door. "Good night, Four."

"Yeah," I say. My voice sounds gravelly. "Good night."

The knock on the wall never comes.


	45. Ch 45: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

_A/N: So sorry for another long wait! Real life has not been leaving room in my head to get into the minds of these characters, so I've been rather uninspired. I'll try not to leave you waiting so long next time, but regardless… I promise you I am not abandoning this story!_

 _Thank you as always for reading, and an extra big thanks to those who take a minute to review! I love hearing from you!_

* * *

 **Chapter 45  
** _ **Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot**_

 **SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2016 | 11:15 AM | FOUR**

I am standing in the alley behind our apartment building. Why I followed Uriah and Tris this far, I cannot explain. I am barely avoiding a slimy-looking puddle on the wet, cracked asphalt beneath my feet, forcing me too close to the nearly overflowing dumpster. Thank God it's winter; the odor is pungent enough now. In the summer, Zeke and I always fought about who should take out the trash, because the heat ripens everyone's refuse to a stench that is unbearable.

It started with Uriah bouncing around the apartment, bragging to Tris that he found the answer to their problem and it wouldn't cost them a dime. Uriah camping out on the couch is already annoying me. I was hoping that Tris and I could fall right back into our usual morning routine, reading together on the couch, but that wasn't possible with Uriah sleeping in on his day off.

As we followed Uriah down the stairwell, Tris told me that she and Uriah had discussed the roommate situation yesterday, but didn't agree on a solution. I hold myself back from suggesting that there is plenty of room for her in my queen-sized bed. That is an invitation that would not go over well. Maybe one day… but not yet.

Uriah's intention becomes clear when, grinning, he proudly points to his left. Next to him, propped up against the fence, is what appears to be the makings of a bunk bed. I can only shake my head. I have often joked that Zeke must have been dropped on his head as a baby. Then I met Uriah and decided that the problem must be something genetic.

"Hell, no," Tris spits. I watch her cross her arms over her chest and level a glare in Uriah's direction.

Uriah's excited smile and outstretched arm both begin falling. "But Triiis," he whines, "why?"

"Where do I even start?" she scoffs. She opens her mouth, then after a long wordless moment, snaps it shut and looks to me with wide eyes.

"The wood is splintering on the frame," I point out. "Those mattresses have been out in the rain, they'll mold. And they don't look very clean."

"They're just a little stained," Uriah protests, startling as a rat skitters out from behind the propped mattresses. "Won't even see it, even when you're changing the sheets, once it's got a mattress cover."

"Uriah, it's disgusting." Tris tiptoes around the slimy puddle and covers her hand with her coat sleeve before tipping the top mattress to show the one beneath. "This one looks like someone was murdered on it. And― oh my god!" Tris shrieks and jumps back, narrowly missing the mystery puddle. "Uriah, there is something _moving_ in there."

A full-body shudder visibly runs through Tris before she leaps around the puddle and back to my side. Meanwhile, Uriah is teasing her about being dramatic while he starts toward the disgusting bed.

"What was it?" I ask Tris quietly, tuning Uriah out.

"My best guess is, a rat's nest," she says, face twisted in disgust.

In the background Uriah's chatter suddenly stops. He lets out a girly squeak and I hear his shoes scrape at the pavement. He turns around to face us and I swear his face is a couple of shades paler than usual.

"Okay… we'll figure something else out," Uriah quickly agrees. Then he speed walks around us and out of the alleyway, leaving Tris and me to follow.

Tris and I look at each other and start laughing. I am relieved at the sound; it's the first time I have heard her laugh since she got home from Whistler. I have found myself watching her when she thinks no one is looking, trying to make sure she's okay. She and Uriah are so close, I know this break-up can't be easy.

Tris shakes her head as, in unison, we turn and start toward the mouth of the alleyway. Unbidden, my hand moves to guide her by the small of her back; just in time, I stop myself from touching her. But it's close enough that she feels my proximity, and Tris glances over her shoulder, looking confused when nothing is there.

I clear my throat. "Are you going to Zeke's party tonight?" I ask, hoping to distract her.

"That's the plan," she shrugs. "You?"

"Yeah," I tell her. "Zeke has a New Year's Eve party every year. It will be a lot more fun this time, knowing that I am not the one who will have to clean up the next day."

"I bet it will," Tris chuckles. We climb the stairs to the apartment, side by side. She glances at me. "Do you think my bike will be safe parked on the street by Zeke's place overnight? By midnight, I probably won't be in any condition to ride it home."

"Probably as safe as it is in the lot here," I answer. "You're not riding with Uriah?"

"Oh, no, he has a date." She sounds so nonchalant, and her face gives away no emotion.

"Already?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. I was hurt when I learned she had moved on so quickly with Uriah, but that had been months later; Uriah and Tris broke up only two days ago. Suddenly I want, more than ever before, to punch Uriah in the face. I take a calming breath in order to keep my voice even. "Is he taking her to the party?"

Tris nods and does not slow her pace, striding toward the apartment door. I grab her wrist and stop her.

"Are you sure you're okay? I can't believe he―" I look away and shake my head. "Why not go to a movie or something instead? I'd bail on the party and go with you if you wanted."

"Four, I'm fine," she gives me a pointed look, "so long as people stop making such a big deal about this."

I don't believe her, but there is no point in arguing. It will only make her more determined to go. "If you're sure."

"I am." The words are clipped, and she stares straight forward, her lips pressed into a thin, straight line. Then she looks me in the eyes, then down to her arm that I am still tightly holding, and back up to my eyes.

I release her arm and nod in surrender. "Sorry," I say. "Well, in that case… I was going to walk to Zeke's tonight. You should walk with me, it's not too far." I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her to answer. I keep getting the feeling that she is carrying this tension with her; she is stretched tight like a rubber band and I want to keep an eye on her in case it snaps.

Tris bites her lip. She glances up at my face but her gaze skirts mine, eyes not making contact. I find myself holding my breath until she gives in and says, "Yeah, sure, I guess we could walk together."

It's not the enthusiasm I would have hoped for, but it's a yes nonetheless.

* * *

 **SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2016 | 9:20 PM | TRIS**

Zeke's party is already crowded when we arrive, with bass thumping loud enough to reverberate in my chest and discarded beer bottles already littering every flat surface. I separate from Four as soon as we are in the door and make a beeline for the kitchen to make myself a drink, then join in on the game of Jenga that is taking place at Zeke's round kitchen table. Most of them are strangers. The only person I know in this group is Lynn, and I slip into a gap between her and a tall guy in his early twenties. He is attractive, with olive skin, wavy dark hair and a defined jawline. He introduces himself as Brad and makes no attempt to hide it when he checks me out.

While waiting for my first turn, I sip at my rum and coke and quickly evaluate the Jenga tower. The second level from the bottom is down to one center brick. Each time someone removes a brick, the structure wobbles dangerously.

Across the room I see Four, a pair of scantily clad girls crowding into his bubble of personal space, obviously flirting with him. One of them gestures with her hands as she talks. But instead of looking at the person speaking to him, he has locked eyes with mine. I feel that guy Brad's hand on my arm and just catch Four's eyes hardening before I look away.

"Your turn, Tris," Brad tells me, just as Lynn kicks me in the leg to get my attention back on the game. I scowl at her and she just shrugs. Brad's hand is still on my arm, so I scoot a little closer to Lynn so it will drop.

I take my time selecting a piece to remove from the tower. Just as I am pulling it out, I hear a familiar voice rumbling behind me. It startles me and a moment later the whole tower is crashing down. I spin around, leveling a glare at Four, who is bumping fists with Brad.

"You startled me and now I lost, Four!" I complain. Four smirks at me. All I can do is roll my eyes before I throw back the rest of my drink ― the penalty for losing the game.

"What are you having, Tris?" Brad asks me. "I'm headed to the kitchen."

"Rum and coke," I say, smiling sweetly at him and ignoring the expressionless mask on Four's face. Lynn disappears from next to me, too, as I begin to stack the bricks up to reset the game. Four silently helps me. Lynn returns first, then Brad, who reaches past Four to hand me my drink. The game is starting when I realize that Four has managed to position himself as a buffer between Brad and me, like he's trying to be my chaperone. I glower down into my cup.

After the game ends, Four goes to get another beer and I drift into the crowded living room while he's gone. I wander along the edge of the room, smiling at Christina when she waves at me while still dancing with Will.

An arm settles heavily across my shoulders.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" a voice slurs near my ear. I turn my head to smile at Zeke, who now seems to be using me as an armrest. His eyes are bright and glassy and a grin stretches wide across his face.

I laugh. "Great party," I compliment.

Zeke tips an invisible hat with his free hand. "Thank you, madame," he says in a terrible accent that is somewhere between Irish and Australian.

I laugh. "Do you actually know all these people?"

"'Course not. I invite people, and they bring people, who bring even more people."

I shake my head. "I would hate having so many strangers in my house."

"That why you guys haven't had a party since you moved here?"

I shrug. "Never thought about it. But now that you mention it, I do prefer to let someone else get their house trashed."

"So does Shauna," he admits. "I just annoy her about it 'til she gives in."

"Guess I've got a better immunity to the Pedrad charm."

Zeke smiles, but then his face falls to an unusually serious expression. "Uriah told me you guys decided to be just friends."

"Mm-hmm," I confirm.

He eyes me, sceptical of my stoic non-reaction. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I say, too quickly, but he doesn't show any sign that he notices. "But it's awkward since we share a room."

"Well," Zeke smirks, "there's an easy solution to that. I'm sure Four would love for you to move in with him."

"Zeke!" I smack his arm. "God. You and Uriah need to stop with that. Speaking of beds, did Uriah tell you he tried to dumpster dive for a bunk bed?"

"He's always wanted a bunk bed," Zeke reminisces. "Wait, so it all worked out, then?"

I shake my head. "I said dumpster dive, Zeke. Literally dumpster diving. For a bed." I launch into a narrative of this morning's trip into the alley, which soon has Zeke throwing his head back in laughter and using me not just as an armrest, but to partially support his weight and steady himself.

Zeke is just quieting down when I spot Four just across the room. His face is impassive to the brunette hanging off his arm. Her dress is about two sizes too small and she is tall, nearly matching his height in her high heels. Zeke follows my gaze. "He can be so awkward sometimes," he chuckles. "Not that I need to tell you." The girl is practically pressing her fake boobs up against him. "But it looks like he won't have any trouble finding someone to kiss at midnight."

The idea of Four kissing that slut makes me feel sick. But I don't think that will happen. Four doesn't just look awkward… he looks uncomfortable.

I smile politely at Zeke and empty my plastic cup in one gulp. "I gotta go get another drink."

Zeke nods. "Yeah, hurry up. You're nowhere near drunk enough."

I laugh. Zeke gives me a quick squeeze and lets his arm drop from my shoulders. I weave through the crowded room toward Four, trying to think up the best way to save Four from the party's biggest skank. I'm just being a good friend. That sharp twinge of discomfort in my stomach is just the alcohol. Definitely not jealousy, there's no way I would get jealous about Four; that's all in the past. After I rescue him from the bimbo, I'll find a snack and then I'll feel better.

The girl has a drink in her hand, making for an easy opportunity to get this chick to go away. When I'm just feet away, I intentionally bump into a passing guest, tripping forward and into the girl... knocking into her drink and causing it to tip right down into her cleavage.

Little miss look-at-my-boobs slowly turns, her face a picture of shock and quickly rising anger. You would think I dumped a whole bucket of the stuff over her head, not spilled a bit down her front. "Look what you did!" she screeches.

"I'm so sorry," I gush, putting on my best face of innocence and apology. "I tripped! Look, I'm sure Zeke has some club soda or something, let's just-"

"This dress is _silk_! This isn't going to come out. Eugh!" The girl looks furious and her voice has gone this whiny, nasal high pitched tone. I see Four cringe and as soon as the girl looks down again I wink at him. The corner of his lip twitches as he holds back his amusement.

The girl scurries off to clean herself up. When she is out of earshot, Four drops the facade and begins to chuckle. "Thanks for that. I told her I wasn't interested but she was...persistent," he says, scratching the back of his neck. I feel something inside me warm up, and a smug sort of satisfaction, at hearing him confirm that he wasn't interested in her. Like that stab a few minutes ago which was decidedly not jealousy.

I shrug. "Don't mention it." I turn and start toward the nearby kitchen; I can see Christina and Will in there snacking from a bag of Doritos. But Four follows me, taking a few steps to catch up. I am in the doorway when his fingers wrap around my arm and he stops me, coming to stand in front of me. I turn and raise my eyebrows.

Four just stares at me for a moment, brow furrowed. "You know I'm not interested in girls like that, don't you?"

I swallow. "It's none of my business, Four."

"Yes it is."

My lips part and now it's my turn to just stare. I am drowning in those deep blue eyes, eyes that are trying to tell me so much. Drowning in a sea of desire and devotion and love, in all the things I keep locked away in memories of Tobias that I try never to take out. I just stare, and he stares back.

"Four and Tris," a voice sing-songs, breaking us from our reverie. I snap to attention, and when I turn my head, there is Christina wearing a sly grin. Her eyes raise to look at something above our heads. "Look where you're standing."

I look up and barely hold back my groan of indignation. There, directly above Four and me, a sprig of mistletoe hangs in the doorway. I try to sidestep back into the living room but Christina lunges forward to hold me in place. "Nuh-uh," she demands in a tone that leaves no room for argument. "You have to kiss!" I scowl at her and ignore the quiet huff coming from Four. "Oh, come on, Tris. Don't be a grinch. It's a holiday tradition!"

"It's not Christmas. It's New Years," I protest.

"Potato, po-tah-toe. Stop being a baby and kiss him already."

I try to engage her in a stare down, but Four has had enough. Before I know what is happening, he slides his hand into my hair, cupping the curve of my skull, and presses his lips against mine.

I don't kiss back at first, fighting against the feelings bubbling up inside of me, but he doesn't give up. I don't want to feel this way for Four, but want quickly turns to need and I can't help myself. I kiss back... I savor his lips against mine, that full bottom lip plump and mostly soft but just a tiny bit chapped. My hands are moving on their own, first to his cheek, then sliding down to rest on his chest while his hand slowly slides from my hair down my neck and back. He pulls me a little closer and I am ready for us to deepen the kiss when he pulls slowly away and drops his hands, stepping back.

I stand there, lips parted, feeling almost in shock. Four steps back and buries his hands in his pockets. His face is tinged with pink, right up to the tips of his ears. If the heat in my cheeks is anything to go by, I'm sure I'm blushing just as hotly. I clear my throat, my eyes darting around the room to look anywhere else but at Four. I finally settle on Christina's face, wide-eyed and jaw dropped.

"And you didn't want to kiss him," she mutters, cocking an eyebrow.

I look around and find that Christina is not the only one staring at us. Will is smirking, Shauna appears to be somewhere between happy and shocked, and that guy Brad from the Jenga game is scowling.

This is not what I wanted tonight. I wanted to escape, like I did at that first party I went to with Uriah, the one where I took on the carefree persona of Tris. Things aren't supposed to be so complicated for Tris, this wasn't supposed to happen. All of my feelings for my first love were supposed to be buried with the name Beatrice.

"I'm just gonna..." I start, but I trail off and swallow, having no idea what excuse to give. I can't think over all the thoughts swimming in my head and the creeping panic building in my chest. I just want to run away from Four, and from these gawking people, and even from myself and these stupid feelings that keep cropping back up.

So, without explanation, I turn and push my way between people and disappear into the crowd.


End file.
